


Behind golden eyes

by Dark_Violet



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Fluff, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mild Smut, No Beta, Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reference to Torture, dark themes, disgustingly in love, english is not my first language, not so vague, there will be fluff I promise, vague reference to religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-07 23:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Violet/pseuds/Dark_Violet
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are finally in a relationship, and absurdly happy. The moment they lower their guard, though, some unexpected enemies take advantage of it with an annoyingly good timing. Forced to play defence to protect themselves and their love, the angel and the demon will also have to learn how to deal with their own insecurities and how to accept each other's small imperfections.This will be a tale of pain and revenge, but also of love, strenght and growth.And I mean what I said in the tags. There will be angst. Hem... sorry?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 95





	1. Sunday Morning

Demons were not a particularly forgiving race. They were obstinate and vindictive and considering that they were also immortal, except for some small incidents involving holy water, they could waste all the time in the world harboring revenge. Many of the infernal creatures had indeed been secretly fascinated by Crowley's apparent invulnerability, but that didn't mean they were inclined to forgive him for making the whole Hell look incompetent. Also, there was an advantage in the immortality of a rebel demon, he could be made suffer a lot. That impossibly annoying angel of his would suffer too as a consequence, which was a bonus as it was not bad at all to have some credit to collect in Heaven.

Although in the months following the failed Apocalypse that was the common sentiment that wound through the dark depths of Hell, it looked like there was no one able to take such a burden on his or her shoulders. Strangely enough, the demons were all apparently very busy with more urgent matters. 

Some time had to pass by before someone realized to be bored enough to want to try their hands at the task.

A timid, early afternoon sun shone on a beautiful mansion in Hampsted when a creature in the shape of a thirty-something woman entered a large room furnished with Baroque luxury. Her blond hair were tied in a tight chignon and a red dress covered her beautiful figure from shoulders to knees. She also wore a mean frown on her face and the look of someone who would have gladly thrown something against the wall. The fact that there were no glass or otherwise breakable ornaments in sight said a lot about how many times in the past such a scene had occurred.

On a red and gold brocade sofa was another woman in a long night blue dress and no shoes. She was a blonde too, but she wore her air loose on her bare, ivory shoulders. Lazily lying on her side, she barely looked at the other woman, who in turn, instead of a greeting gave her an harsh command.

"Gather the whole family, we have some work to do."

"A new job, sister dear?"

“What do you think ?

"That you should tell someone who cares"

"Not funny. Now, move your lazy ass and do as I told you!"

The second woman didn't lose her composure, "maybe later."

"I said now, dammit!"

Just then another girl entered the room. She was younger, apparently 16 or 17, and immediately put her finger to her lips to signale her sisters to be quiet. "Girls, you will frighten my puppy," she said cradling a little dog in her arms as if it were a child.

The woman in red was even more annoyed, "we have no time for such games." 

"This is not a toy," the girl said with a conspiratorial smile, but didn't bother to explain further.

"Where does it come from anyway?"

"I liked it, I wanted it, and I took it. It's not against the rules, right?” The girl kept on rocking her puppy gently, without averting her intense gaze from its pretty, tiny muzzle. Then she sat down in an armchair, taking care not to crease her lovely pink taffeta dress.

The woman in red sighed audibly. "However, as I was saying, we have some important things to do."

The girl looked excited. “Is that so? A new job?"

"More like a private initiative."

"Really? And where are the guys?"

"The Hell if I know! That's why I was asking this slacker here to gather the group."

The woman in the blue dress, still lying motionless on the sofa, didn't react to the insult. She had spared a not so interested look to the little dog, then she had turned to lay on her back and was now looking vacantly at the ceiling.

The other one, still standing, grated her teeth in anger at her attitude, then massaged her temple as if trying to ward off an headache before turning to the younger girl, "then you will have to do it!"

She finally shifted her gaze from her puppy, only for the time necessary to give her a jovial smile "I can't right now, sister, it's time for a snack."

"It's always time for a snack, according to you!"

"That's true," the girl giggled, covering her mouth with her gloved hand in an unnecessarily elegant gesture.

"All right, damn it, I'll have to do everything by myself as usual!" That said, or better yelled, the woman in red left slamming the door.

"Oh no, no, little one," said the girl still cradling the puppy like a child. "Aunt Wrath is a bit nervous today." From the sofa came a little snort of laughter, so she corrected herself. "Ok, Aunt Wrath is always nervous, but we don't care, do we?"

The puppy yawned, then closed its eyes again and the girl just beamed. "That's a good boy, now let's have a nice snack." She lifted the puppy in her hands, then, and opened her mouth. Her jaw was weirdly wide, like that of a snake, almost completely dislocated from the bones of her skull.

She devoured the little dog in one bite.

"Tasty. I needed it, I was so hungry," she said then, perfectly satisfied, leaning on the back of the chair with total abandonment, almost as if she were drunk.

Next to her the blonde woman just stared apathetically. "May I have a bit of silence now? I was trying to rest."

"Oh Sloth, you're not funny."

The blond just shrugged.

"I can't wait for Wrath and the boys to come home," chirped Gluttony happily, with her hands crossed over her stomach. "She always has the beast ideas."

*****

In a small and cozy apartment in Soho a demon slept crouched with his head in the lap of an angel who was reading a newspaper, occasionally stroking his hair the color of autumn leaves. It was a little past ten o'clock in the morning, a detail of little importance for two eternal beings, in peace and in love. It was sunday, but Aziraphale opened his shop whenever he felt like it anyway, and Crowley loved to sleep, especially after an intense night of lovemaking. Even more so if he could use his angel as a pillow.

Everything was still very recent and new to them both. It had taken weeks for Aziraphale to relax enough after the failed Apocalypse, for Crowley to even think about asking him out on a real date. More time had passed before Crowley actually found the courage to do it. Millennia of friendzone could undermine the self-esteem of a demon and being rejected several times, albeit for understandable reasons, had made the task almost more frightening than fighting the Antichrist.

In the end Crowley had managed, but after that first date whole weeks had passed before their relationship became something real, and Crowley finally moved to Aziraphale's house.

Making love, living together, falling asleep with the heartbeat of his angel as a lullaby was still a wonderful novelty to which Crowley was not entirely accustomed. Sometimes, when he opened his eyes after a nap and found himself clinging to the soft body of the angel, he still had to marvel at his own luck. An infernal creature, a fallen angel, a sinner, had the unconditional and total love of a true angel even if he knew he didn't deserve it at all. When he stopped to think about it, it still seemed surreal.

It all felt surreal for Aziraphale too, and not because he deemed the demon unworthy, nothing could be further from his thoughts, it was just that after long centuries of loneliness he now lived surrounded by love and he was happier than he ever thought he could be.

On that gray sunday morning, with a leaden sky and a thin rain falling relentlessly since the first hours of dawn, there was really nothing better to do than to lie in bed and fiddle with his demon's soft hair.

Under those gentle caresses Crowley started to move just barely, clinging a little closer and muttering something unintelligible. Aziraphale looked away from his newspaper to give him an affectionate smile. In those brief moments before the demon was fully awake, when his brain was still fogged by sleep, such a bright and sincere smile appeared on his lips that Aziraphale melted every time. It was worth lingering in long hours of laziness for moments like that.

That time, however, he saw a shadow on the demon's face, while his sleep was becoming restless. A pained moan escaped Crowley's lips and Aziraphale immediately threw the newspaper away. It was clearly a nightmare so he stroked the demon's shoulder trying to calm him with sweet words, unsure whether to wake him up or not.

"Crowley it's alright, I'm here with you," he said, but his words had no effect, the demon seemed increasingly agitated and Aziraphale wasn't sure what to do. As an angel who didn't particularly enjoy sleeping he was pretty unfamiliar with dreams, good or bad.

He shook Crowley's shoulder a little harder. "It's just a bad dream, dear, wake up."

It took a few moments more for Crowley to be able to free himself from whatever was tormenting his mind. When he woke up he did so with a start and was so shaken that he unknowingly pushed Aziraphale away with enough force to send him crashing into the woodden headboard.

"Ouch!" The angel groaned, rubbing the back of his head.

"Angel?" Crowley managed to gasp, looking around as if he didn't know where he was, kneeling half tangled in the covers, as if he couldn't believe he was simply in bed with the angel he loved.

Aziraphale approached him cautiously, as if Crowley were a frightened animal. "It's okay, it was just a bad dream."

Still lost between wakefulness and dreams, Crowley only managed to nod. "Yes, yes, a bad dream."

"Do you... do you want to talk about it?"

Crowley hastened to shake his head. He wasn't even sure what he had dreamed of, exactly, besides there was a more urgent question.

"I hurt you," he said as a matter of fact.

"It's nothing, don't worry. Are you fine?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Crowley lied as he ran a hand through his hair, still struggling to keep his unnecessary breath under control.

Aziraphale knew that it wasn't true, at least not entirely, and reached out to him. He wanted to calm him down a little, then maybe even try to make him talk. He was sure it would help. Crowley, however, pulled back as if Aziraphale were offering him a glass of holy water, in the same instant the hurt expression on the angel's face broke his heart. He didn't even know why he had done so, usually sinking into Aziraphale's embrace was one of his favourite pastimes, even though he struggled desperately to hide it.

“Maybe... a cup of tea?” The angel ventured as he got up without daring to look directly into the demon's eyes. He understood that Crowley was still shaken and didn't want to force him to do anything, not even accept his caresses, but he had to admit that the rejection hurt a little.

"Yes, thank you, that would be perfect," Crowley muttered.

Aziraphale just nodded and went downstairs while Crowley let himself fall on the pillows, covering his eyes with one arm and repeating himself again and again, like a mantra, _idiot idiot idiot idiot_.

Not only had he lied to Azirapahale twice in a row, since he had to admit he wasn't completely fine yet and he really didn't feel like drinking tea, but he had also hurt his feelings, all because of a stupid nightmare he couldn't even remember.

There was not much left of that dream, just a deep sense of anguish and terror, and even that couldn't be considered unusual, nightmares were just like that after all. Except that Crowley didn't dream very often in the first place. His rare dreams were full of ducks or whales. Once Freddy Mercury had appeared to him on the back of an horse sized aardvark, but that had been the most bizarre dream he could remember. Had he just dreamed of vampire ducks, maybe? No, it wasn't anything like that. Although he couldn't remember the details, he knew it was something much worse.

He decided, however, that he had to put himself together, he just couldn't let Aziraphale think he had rejected him for a second longer. Even though he still felt shaken he got up and joined the angel in the kitchen. Aziraphale had his back to him, and whether he heard the demon coming or not, he didn't turn, so Crowley came closer, circled the angel's hips in his arms and rested his chin on his shoulder. The angel merely dared to put his hand on Crowley's, but said nothing. He wasn't angry, he just didn't want to risk saying or doing something wrong and driving the demon away again.

"I'm sorry, angel, I'm just an idiot."

Since it looked like Crowley was feeling better Aziraphale raised his other hand to rest it on the demon's cheek.

“Nonsense my dear.”

This time not only did Crowley not draw back but he leant into the caress. Aziraphale had to smile, when they were alone, at home, his demon was really cuddly. When he turned in Crowley's embrace he found a slow and deep kiss waiting for him and the tea was soon forgotten.

A few moments later they were back in bed, but this time they were fully naked. Crowley closed his eyes in total abandonment and arched his back beautifully while Aziraphale's erection gently opened him. The angel moved in slow deep thrusts, immensely grateful for all the trust the demon always showed him at moments like that. He knew that Crowley had never had sex with anybody else before him, claiming to not be interested in that kind of relationship with humans, or anyone who wasn't the angel, for that matter. Aziraphale had never felt more privileged before, and albeit his previous experience was not that vast, he still had secretly promised himself to do his best to make every time special for them both, as if it were the first. Whether they indulged in slow, languid, strokes like that morning, or played a little rough, Aziraphale simply adored taking care of Crowley, drowing himself in the love and trust that shone so brightly in the demon's sun kissed eyes.

That morning, when he finally came in hot, pearly streams in the demon's tight body, and then collapsed on him, Crowley was barely left with the strength to hug him, and the nightmare was soon forgotten. He had never felt so safe in all his long existence as when he was crushed between the mattress and the body of his lover, with his softening erection still buried deep inside.

During the day Crowley's mood visibly improved, also thanks to the fact that the rain had finally ceased and there was some blue to be seen among the residual clouds. They got out in the late afternoon, walking so close that their shoulders brushed, and so caught up in each other's words that they didn't notice three pairs of eyes looking at them from the other side of the road.

"Pain would look nice on the both of them, what do you say?” Said a young man with long black hair and a dark green jacket. “Can we take the angel too?"

A taller man standing next to him answered with a severe frown. "Don't be greedy, brother, you know we have to leave Heaven alone, for now. We just need the demon."

"Not fair!"

"I know. And I must admit the angel is in the way."

"How so?"

"Their bond is strong, I can sense it, it makes them both stronger. It must be broken. Besides, it's disgusting, I can smell it from miles away."

"Yeah, they're just gross," a third young man added. He too wore a dark green jacket and he was in all respects similar to the first one, except for his shorter hair. Whoever saw them together wouldn't have doubted they were twins.

"We have to separate them," the tallest of the three declared. "You two, do as you wish, just split them up."

“Cool! Thanks Pride!” The twins replied in unison.

The man, or rather the Sin named Pride didn't show it but shared the same enthusiasm. It was the twenty-first century, and many of the deadly sins were no longer considered neither sinful nor deadly, it was starting to be humiliating. Everything was tolerated, especially in places like London and it was honestly frustrating. When Wrath had come up with the idea of capturing the rebel demon everyone in the family got excited. Even Sloth had shown a vague interest, once she deigned to listen to her sister's plan. There were pain, tears and torture coming their way, possibly death too and maybe Lord Beelzebub would even reward them, as long as they avoided starting a war against Heaven.

*****

The night had already fallen, Azirapahale was sitting at the bistrot's table enjoying the last bite of his apple tarte with a completely delighted expression on his face. Crowley looked at him slouched on the chair, amused.

“Well?” Asked the angel after a while.

"You know. This isn't really decent."

"What did I do?"

"It's full of people here. Full of easily corruptible young minds..."

Aziraphale smiled at him, that was an old joke between the two of them, "I'd say corruption is more your speciality."

"I must be rubbing off on you."

"Well" the angel said in a low, seductive voice, "you surely rub on me quite a lot at night."

Crowley snorted in his drink "angel!" Then he looked around, at the same time amused and embarrassed. Aziraphale just laughed. He was usually the one who had to blush whenever Crowley came up with something inappropriate, but when he had the chance to take some small revenge it was undoubtedly fun.

Just then, as evoked by Crowley's worlds, a young man in his early twenties, well dressed in his pristine green jacked, with black, long hair combed back, passed by their table throwing an unmistakable glance at Aziraphale. The angel was still too focused on his flavour experience to be able to realize what was going on around him, but Crowley noticed it very well and his smile became so cold and sharp that even Aziraphale couldn't miss it.

"What...?" He said slightly alarmed, turning to follow Crowley's gaze. The young man turned at the same moment and winked at him. Azirapahale blushed, but soon after he had to gently scold the demon "Oh Crowley!"

"He tripped all by himself!" Crowley whispered with an unrepentant smile, "so clumsy, young people today."

The angel strove to take a more severe tone but failed miserably. "So I guess the chair he stumbled into moved by itself too."

Crowley grinned. Perhaps he had wished a little too ardently to see the guy who had winked at his angel stumble, but he didn't regret it even a bit. After all the cheeky asshole had managed to keep his balance, avoiding falling to the ground.

"Shit happens. No harm done."

Aziraphale pointed the spoon at him "just so that you know, I don't like that language and I don't like it when you lie to me." The angel wasn't really angry, and he couldn't deny that Crowley's little jealousy felt good. Never before had anyone made him feel that he was so important to them, and although it was perhaps a sin of vanity, that thing made Aziraphale feel good. As long as it all remained confined to those small, insignificant gestures, as Crowley himself had said, no harm done.

Lies, on the other hand, were something entirely different. Aziraphale really didn't like to think that the demon lied to him. He concluded his affectionate reproach with a small kiss on Crowley's lips anyway. It had been a beautiful day despite the gray sky and he didn't want to ruin it in any way. He still wasn't too happy that Crowley had not told him anything about his dream, but he seemed to be fine, so the angel concluded that maybe there really wasn't anything to say.

"I'm sorry," answered the demon without even the bare minimum of contrition. He was clearly referring to the incident with the chair and the guy, while blatantly avoiding addressing the nightmare. He never lied to Aziraphale anyway, not about important things and a stupid dream was just irrelevant.

"You're not sorry at all"

"No, I'm not, shall we go?"

The trouble with Crowley, Aziraphale often thought, was that it was almost impossible to get mad at him.

The dark haired young man who had hailed his two brothers at their table in a corner of the room, thought otherwise.

"That poor excuse for a demon!” He hisses. “He'll have nothing to laugh about when we're done with him."

"Calm down Greed, don't lower yourself to his level."

"Shut up Pride, if you were in my place this stupid restaurant would be on fire already."

The man smiled maliciously, "probably."

"They are always, like, stuck together, it won't be easy to get to the demon." Added the third guy.

Greed gave his twin an evil smile "so let's take the angel too."

“Yeah, I want him!”

"Fuck you Envy, I saw him first!"

Before any escalation occurred, Pride slammed his hand on the table, just sufficiently loud to stop the argument without attracting too much attention.

"That's enough. I already told you we just need the demon, but don't worry, everyone will have their part, you'll see."


	2. Where my demons hide

Recently Crowley slept less. Aziraphale didn't know whether to be worried or not. The demon liked to sleep but he didn't do it on a regular basis like most humans used to do, he never had. Yet the coincidence was a bit odd, after the nightmare of a few days before.

Other than that Crowley acted normally, more or less, he was only a bit moody and sometimes he got lost in his own thoughts. Those changes were so small nobody would ever noticed them, aside from Aziraphale. He knew him too well, they were so close it was as if he could read inside his soul, yet he couldn't really understand what troubled him, if anything at all. Every time he asked, Crowley claimed to be fine with such a conviction Aziraphale ended up believing him.

Crowley, for his part, had decided it wasn't worth being upset over a stupid dream so he had imposed himself to forget about it and so far he had done a decent job. Nonetheless, every now and then he felt as if he were on the verge of something, as if there was a disaster, just behind the corner, waiting to happen and it was a disheartening thought.

He knew that neither he nor Aziraphale would have been left alone forever but he had also hoped to have more time to enjoy the company, the affection and the love of his angel.

Sometimes he wondered if it was just his conscience to speak. Supposing that a demon still had some conscience left. Crowley knew, deep down, that he wasn't enough for Aziraphale; it wasn't self-pity, it was just a matter of common sense. If he wasn't worthy of Heaven the most obvious consequence was that he wasn't worthy of an Heaven's angel either. Even if Aziraphale was an outcast.

He should have known since forever, but before, to be with Aziraphale had been a forbidden dream, now everything was real and it was as beautiful as it was scary.

The worst thing was that he couldn't tell his best friend about his fears because he knew that Aziraphale, that kind soul he was, would be upset. Maybe he was a bit of a bastard sometimes, and yet he was so good and generous as to want a being created in corruption and sin.

Every day, with every gesture and every look, Aziraphale showed him a love brighter than every star. The least Crowley could do was doing everything in his power to make him happy. To not burden him with his silly problems was a good start.

One day Crowley found a small vintage record store half hidden in a courtyard. The owners, an old married couple, were kind and very educated on the subject, so he spent with them an inordinate amount of time without even realizing it. He got home when it was almost noon, with a rich loot of vintage records under his arm and a satisfied grin on his lips. He found Aziraphale intent on a lively conversation with two young men wearing two identical suede jackets and a tie. They looked in every respect like they were students in some old English university.

All the three of them were focused on a literary dispute and Aziraphale looked delighted, to say the least. He could be infuriatingly endearing, but Crowley chuckled to himself. Soon his two guests would realize that they had no hope of buying books in that shop, it was going to be fun and Crowley looked forward to the small show. Aziraphale could be very creative when he needed to prevent buyers for buying.

Then his smile faded.

One of those two alleged students was the same who had winked at Aziraphale in the restaurant a few days before. Crowley didn't remember ever seeing the other one but he looked a lot like the first, he had to be his twin. That was not the point, though. The point was that they were both looking at the angel in a way he didn't like at all.

Aziraphale, for his part, was completely oblivious, taken as he was from the conversation about the metric of Yeats verses, or something like that. He greeted him as if nothing at all had happened. "Oh Crowley, welcome back."

The demon returned the greeting with much less enthusiasm.

Knowing already what had triggered Crowley's reaction, the angel immediately tried to diffuse the tension.

"Let me introduce these two young men. They are..."

He couldn't finish the sentence because Crowley interrupted him "so kind as to apologize us, right? It's late, the shop is closed."

"Oh, we are so sorry," the long-haired guy said smoothly, "we didn't realize it was so late."

“Yeah, time goes by so fast when you enjoy yourself” added his brother.

It was the first time Aziraphale had to witness the demon being so rude, usually he never interacted much with his customers in the first place. He tried to go along with it without being impolite. "It's perfectly fine, really. It's not _that_ late.”

The short haired guy gave Crowley a small, defiant smile, it was barely perceptible, but the demon noticed it anyway. "We had so much fun, we have to do it again,” he said. At the same time his bother gave Aziraphale a small, white card. “Mr. Fell, this is the address, you can come whenever you want. As I told you before, our grandfather is an antiquarian and he will be delighted to show you our huge library."

The demon felt the cold clutches of anger gripping his stomach, it was stupid, childish and above everything else unjustified, but he kept his mouth shut just because, on the contrary, Aziraphale was beaming.

"Oh, well, thanks. Thank you so much,” the angel said taking the card. “And please tell your grandfather I'd be delighted to meet him."

"It will be our _pleasure_." The short haired man concluded with a toothy smile and a slightly suggestive inflection on the last word. Then both he and his brother left without sparing Crowley another glance.

The demon clenched his jaw and closed the shop with a simple snap, without even asking the angel if he were ok with it.

When he turned around, he found Aziraphale just few inches away, looking at him more flabbergasted then angry. "Good Lord, would you please tell me what's going on?"

"Angel, you really didn't recognize that idiot with long hair?"

"Of course I did, but Crowley..."

"And do you find this perfectly normal? For him to be here bringing his brother along? I suppose they're twins, right? Or the humans found out how to clone an imbecile?"

“Of course they didn't, albeit I believe science is progressing rapidly these years, but...”

“Anyway you didn't answer my first question, do you really find all of this normal?”

"Well, to tell you the truth at the beginning yes, it seemed a bit odd, but then they told me their family lives in Brentwood, they've just moved into the neighbourhood to be closer to their university. They live close by, they study English literature and this is a book store, so there is really nothing extraordinary."

"Twenty-years-old students living in London don't go to book stores, they go to Fabric."

"This is a stereotype and you know it. What's Fabric anyway?"

Crowley eyerolled pretty hard behind his dark glasses. He knew, but he had to prove a point and looked like he just couldn't do it. Aziraphale ignored him and went on. "However, we were just talking about Yeats."

“HA! Yeats!"

The angel was closer and closer to lose his composure. He knew that Crowley had some insecurities and he was still of the opinion that his jealousy could be somehow flattering, but now it was really going out of hand. Crowley had never acted like that before, usually he resorted to a few dirty looks at the ill-fated, presumed culprit and that was it.

"Crowley, you're acting crazy!"

"I'm not! Luckily one of us can recognize lust when he sees it!"

"Oh! Oh now! This is insulting, Crowley." The angel stated in an unusual cold voice. “Now you'll have to excuse me. I've got some work to do.” That said he turned his back and started tidying up some books with a little too much zeal.

Everything in his body language said that he was not happy at all, and Crowley felt like punching himself. So much for wanting to make Aziraphale happy. He sighed, the last thing he wanted was to argue with him because of two random guys. Two morons, in his opinion, he didn't like at all for reasons that went far beyond his childish jealousy. That didn't mean he had the right to ruin the angel's mood and besides that disappointed look in Aziraphale's eyes felt like a nail in his black heart.

After a grand total of forty seconds of the silence treatment Crowley was already ready to beg for forgiveness.

Aziraphale had done nothing wrong. He had spent his morning doing exactly what Crowley had done, talking about his favourite topic with two strangers. Even if the old couple at the record store hadn't flirted with him, it didn't mean that Crowley had the right to inflict his own paranoia on Aziraphale.

"I'm sorry, angel" he said. “I guess I went too far.”

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks, he couldn't stand not talking to Crowley either and he could really appreciate the apology because he could feel in his voice it was sincere. He turned again with a small sigh, his expression already much sweeter.

"Come here," he said, and Crowley obeyed at once. He was rewarded with a light kiss that pushed away a pout that Aziraphale found frankly, and in spite of everything, adorable. "My dear boy, you should already know I only have eyes for you."

Crowley blushed, as he always did in those circumstances, which was one of the reasons why the angel said such mushy things, alongside the fact that he was madly in love.

"Shut up, you sappy angel," Crowley grunted, but then demanded another kiss.

Aziraphale was more then happy to oblige, he didn't like seeing the demon unhappy, whatever the reason might be. "Go play with your records now,” he said, the argument already forgotten. “I have a catalogue to check."

"That's really sexy."

"Can we contain the sarcasm, please?"

"Absolutely not."

Eventually Crowley immersed himself in his music. He sat cross legged on the floor, surrounded by his new purchases, with his headphones on so that he could stay close to Aziraphale without disturbing his work.

It was all so perfect that he too managed to set aside, if not forget, that sense of foreboding had just pushed him into acting like a complete fool.

The next morning Crowley and Aziraphale went out to have breakfast together. After a while, not without a little trepidation, Aziraphale spoke. "About those two guys from yesterday..."

Crowley just looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, they invited me to visit their family mansion. They have this huge library, you know."

"I remember, angel, I was here too."

Aziraphale took a deep breath. Given how Crowley had reacted the day before, and that they where on a crowded street, maybe he'd chosen the wrong moment to bring that up. Anyway it was too late to backtrack. "Well, I was planning to go, I mean, tomorrow."

Crowley pinned a virtual medal on himself for not even gritting his teeth. It was not his right to deny the angel anything, and he knew Aziraphale really wanted to go.

“Amazing."

“Crowley...”

"Why are you telling me?" _If you've already decided_, was the obvious subtext.

Aziraphale sighed. Crowley had never tried to stop him from doing anything before, and technically he wasn't doing it that time either, yet it was evident that he wasn't really happy with the whole situation. Aziraphale couldn't figure out why, but two things he knew. One, he definitely deserved more trust. Two, Crowley really wasn't himself, lately.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'll leave early tomorrow morning, that's all."

“Noted.”

They didn't speak for a while, but Aziraphale didn't feel at ease and he could say that Crowley was more worried than cross. He wanted to comfort him but Crowley refused to really talk to him, the distance between them was starting to be scary. When he took his hand the demon didn't protest, instead he squeezed the angel's hand a bit harder than necessary and Aziraphale took it as a good sign.

"Are you worried about something?" He asked softly, after a few more minutes.

Crowley sighed. "No, angel" he lied. There was something, it was undeniable. It wasn't even about jealousy anymore, maybe it never had, there was just something nondescript in the air, something that was constantly putting him on edge. He couldn't have explained if he tried, and he didn't want to talk about it anyway. Whenever that shadow fell on his thoughts his mood became sour. He had waited millennia, literally, to have the angel and now that he finally had him he couldn't be completely happy. It was terribly unfair.

Was it God's punishment for defiling one of Her most precious creatures? Was complete happiness not meant for a demon? Perhaps it was just the proof that he was a disgraceful being, vile and abject to the point of not even being able to love an angel in a healthy way.

Aziraphale, meanwhile, ignored the complexity of Crowley's dilemma. "You don't want me to go, do you?" He asked in a neutral tone.

"No." This time Crowley was one hundred per cent sincere. He didn't like the idea of Aziraphale asking for his permission, but he liked those two shady guys even less. He still trusted the angel as he had never trusted anyone before, and he knew that his worry, or jealousy, or whatever had got into him was just stupid. While he apparently couldn't stop himself feeling that way, at the same time he was ashamed of his own behaviour. He had to do something.

"Crowley, I may very well not go tomorrow. It's not that important and if it makes you unhappy..."

Crowley gave him one of his sweetest, most radiant smiles. Aziraphale would have renounced. For a silly demon's peace of mind. He really was the most perfect boyfriend ever.

"What is it?" the angel asked, surprised by the intensity of his gaze.

Crowley stopped walking and kissed him brazenly.

"Oh, well..." the angel mumbled with a faint blush.

"Go, have a wonderful day, but tomorrow night I want you all to myself."

The way Crowley spoke those words, together with his fiery gaze sent a pleasant and equally inappropriate sensation of warmth to Aziraphale's lower belly. Being in public there wasn't much he could do beside kissing Crowley fiercely, so he did.

"Fucking fags!" The harsh voice of a man with his head sunken under the hood of his sweatshirt broke the spell.

Any trace of sweetness disappeared from Crowley's face, he looked like he was two seconds away from setting something on fire. Aziraphale, on the other hand, didn't bother to turn around, but the man who had just insulted them hit a lamppost, quite hard, and had to keep on walking doing his best, and failing, to hide his humiliation and pain.

Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale's neck, laughing. "This time it wasn't me."

"It was the lamppost, indeed."

"It moved on its own?"

Aziraphale shrugged as he put an arm around the demon's narrow hips, joining him in his laugh. “Such a strange city, London. Something wicked this way comes" he quoted.

Crowley became suddenly serious, before realizing it was just a joke. Fortunately for him, in the position he was in, with his face still hidden in the crook of the angel's neck, Aziraphale couldn't see his face.

The day after the angel got up early. He had spent a good part of the night in bed with Crowley, first between his legs, then in his arms.

It looked like he had done a good job of exhausting him, because for the first time in a few days he had fallen asleep.

When Aziraphale was ready to leave Crowley was still sleeping, barely visible between the blankets and the pillows. With a fond smile he kissed his auburn hair then left, looking forward to the day, and metaphorically rubbing his hands to the idea of all the beautiful things he was going to buy from the antiquarian.

He walked blissfully without imagining that a couple of hours later Crowley would wake up with a start, breathless and covered in icy sweat.

*****

Envy flopped down on an armchair in the posh living room where the _family_ meeting were usually held. He was exhausted. "Damn, I quit, it's impossible!"

"That angel is disgustingly faithful!” Greed added. "I don't think it's normal."

"Or maybe you two are useless" Sloth spoke from the brocade sofa, leaning on her elbow.

"Why don't you go and do it yourself if it's that simple," Envy nearly shouted. She shrugged and continued to fiddle with one of her long blonde locks, without bothering to add anything else.

"We tried everything, I swear to Satan" Greed went on. "There was no way to seduce that stupid, useless angel! I don't know what that obnoxious snake has that we don't!"

Next to him Gluttony sighed audibly. "You were lucky after all, he run but he didn't recognize you. We can't lose the element of surprise."

Wrath sat on the low window sill and looked at her brothers grimly. "He didn't, right?"

“He didn't” Envy confirmed. “He's a gullible idiot, after all. They both are.”

"What do we do now?" Gluttony asked after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. "We can't resort to open confrontation or they'll fight us, then we'll have to fight back, and the next thing you know, war!”

"Do you think Heaven still cares for that angel?" Asked Pride to nobody in particular.

Wrath thought about it for a while. "I bet if we lay a finger on him they will use it as an excuse.”

“Either we think of something or we give up.” Gluttony sighed.

“It can't be that difficult to split them up!"

"Well, obviously it doesn't work.” Pride said, then added a good scowl directed at Envy and Greed. “According to them it's impossible."

Wrath was closer and closer to lose her very little patience. “Impossible? Let nobody therefore put a sunder, that which God hath coupled together? Don't make me laugh!”

Pride didn't comment, he sat with his arms folded and the look of someone who was mulling over something very important, but couldn't provide any brilliant ideas.

Nobody else found anything to add and the silence fell again.

After a while the door opened with a bang. A man entered the room, he had beautiful blue eyes and an intense gaze. His hair was blond and wavy and he wore a light coloured suit. He leaned against the door jamb with his arms folded. "You bunch of incompetent losers, let a pro do the job."

Gluttony clapped her hands covered in pretty satin gloves, completely thrilled despite the insult. "Lust, you look great!"

The other smiled brazenly, "you don't say, sister."

Wrath showed considerably less enthusiasm. "Thank you for finally finding some time for us."

Lust shrugged “I've been busy.”

"What are you now, a wannabe angel?" Sloth asked as shocked as she could manage, but she looked like she didn't find the idea too bad, after all.

Lust reached the middle of the room as if he were on a red carpet, then he did a spin so that his siblings could admire his brand new disguise. While he wasn't an exact copy of Aziraphale, he looked like his long lost brother and even his clothes could have come right from the angel's wardrobe.

"You see, your approach is wrong. Even when Azirasomething is not around that lucky son of a bitch is almost never alone, we couldn't jump him in the middle of the road anyway. Also, the angel being an angel would never cheat on his boyfriend.”

The others stared at him, waiting for the big revelation.

“Guys! Crowley is a demon, sin is in his nature, as well as lies and infidelity. I’ll make sure to exploit every single one of his adorable flaws.”

Nobody criticized his idea, which in Lust's not humble opinion was already a win.

"It's not fair, you are a shapeshifter," Envy eventually commented sullenly. "Everybody could do it like that."

Lust grinned. "Are you envious? Eh Envy?”

The other delegated the answer to his own middle finger.

"That's what I though." Lust said, then went out again as a man on a mission.

*****

Aziraphale went home taking the longest route possible, despite the fact that he wanted to be with Crowley more than ever. Finally the book shop was on sight and he couldn't delay the inevitable anymore. He was just tired and disappointed and wasn't really looking forward to another argument.

When he entered the shop the demon greeted him promptly, as if he had truly missed him. Aziraphale heart felt already a little warmer.

During the day Crowley had managed to put his horrible morning into perspective. Driving around an wandering about in Camden market had helped a lot, he was much calmer now, but he was still happy to have the angel back.

"Hallo, my dear, how was your day?"

The demon shrugged. "Uneventful, I'd say. What about yours?" He wanted to keep the conversation light. He was eager to know the details to make sure Aziraphale really had had a nice day and nothing out of the ordinary had happened, but he didn't want to press him for answers.

“Oh, it was... intense.”

Intense? That wasn't entirely reassuring. "I see you've met a worthy adversary," Crowley tried to joke, peering sideways at Aziraphale while doing his best to feign nonchalance.

"What do you mean?"

"All that way to Brentwood and you didn't buy a single book? I bet the antiquarian wasn't more inclined to let go of his treasures than you are."

With a forced smile on his face, Aziraphale started to fret. "About that, well yes, it's true, you see, well..."

Crowley felt like he'd just swallowed a rock. Something had happened after all. He kissed Aziraphale because he felt like it, because he always did every time the angel came home, but also because it was obvious that Aziraphale needed it. He really had planned to tell him about his nightmares and his premonitions, but that was more urgent. If those two assholes had hurt his angel in any way, he was more than ready to act like the demon he was supposed to be. He had to swallow twice before being able to talk calmly. "Did something go wrong?"

"Oh no, why would you think that?"

Crowley didn't wear his sunglasses at home anymore, that meant Aziraphale could appreciate the full force of the most skeptical glare ever. Since he was also too tired to go through a cross-examination, he just gave in. "Very well”, he said primly “you were right about those two, are you happy now?"

Crowley went completely still. “What do you mean? What happened? What did they do to you? I'll kill them!”

“Nobody kills anybody,” Aziraphale said as a matter of fact. “Please let's be rational.” Then, since Crowley was still waiting for an explanation he went on. “I was... well, the antiquarian wasn't there. By the way the house is huge, actually really beautiful, the carpets are original, eighteenth century I guess... "

“Angel”

Nobody ever said angel like Crowley said _angel, _so Aziraphale went right back to the main topic.

"Well, again, the antiquarian wasn't there. At this point I doubt he exists at all." Aziraphale then walked around his desk as if he wanted to put some distance between himself and Crowley.

"So it was a trap"

"Maybe trap it's a strong term"

"Aziraphale!"

"Alright, yes it was a trap, so to speak."

"I knew it!”

"Yes. As previously stated you were right. Now you can say _I told you_."

Crowley couldn't care less about being right. He covered the distance with a few quick strides, took the angel's face in his hands and kissed him deeply. "I'm not happy at all. I'm sorry it went like this, really."

Aziraphale leaned his forehead against the demon's one, the kiss had already calmed him. "Just to be clear, nothing happened. I left as soon as I realized those guys intentions were... impure."

"I know angel, you don't own me any explanation. I trust you."

“Thank you.” Aziraphale sighed relieved. He knew he had Crowley's trust but those words still felt good. “I own you an apology, my dear. You tried to warn me after all, and I ignored you.”

“You don't own me anything,” Crowley said firmly. Aziraphale already looked too disappointed and sad, the only think Crowley needed from him was a smile.

While he still burned with rage directed at the two jerks, he chose to try to defuse the moment. "You know, I'm not surprised that people drool all over you. I mean, I did it for 6000 years straight, I can't really judge."

Aziraphale let out a small, liberatory laugh. He was immensely grateful that Crowley had showed him nothing but support and now he felt ashamed for thinking even for a moment that he'd have acted otherwise.

Feeling already victorious Crowley went on. "Seriously, my thoughts are perfectly impure whenever I'm close to you."

Now Aziraphale was positively blushing, while admonishing the demon gently, “stop it, you incorrigible flirt.”

"Honestly if I were a good demon I could almost show some simpathy."

Already feeling much better Aziraphale couldn't miss his chance. “My dear, you’re a g...”

“Angel!”

This time the angel laughed openly and Crowley could finally behold his success. His own problems could wait, now he wanted to dedicate all of his energy to make the angel enjoy the rest of that ill-fated day.

"Shell we go out, now? We could find a nice restaurant and plan some gruesome vengeance."

Aziraphale kissed him on the cheek. “Lets' go, but no vengeance, gruesome or not.”

“Spoilsport” Crowley said with a fake pout, then he pointed to the door with a flourish of his arm, "lead the way, angel."

With that the incident was forgotten. At least for the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally chapter two is ready, I was hoping to be able to update a bit faster but real life helps me not, infact I'm not entirely satisfided. Anyway, it's now or never, if I stop contemplating too much the story will never progress. I hope you like it, any feedback is greatly appreciated.
> 
> For the title I own my thanx to the Imagine Dragons :D --> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GFQYaoiIFh8


	3. Cut adrift, still floating

As a general rule, Crowley tried his best to not get attached to human beings due to their annoying habit of growing old and die, but he truly liked having some music inclined acquaintances to chat with, every now and then, so when he went to his new favourite music shop and found out the owners weren't there, he was a little disappointed.

In their place there was a man who introduced himself as the old couple's nephew and claimed to be running the shop while they were both at home with a flu. He had blond hair, big blue eyes and wore a light coloured classic suit. Crowley was sort of amused, there was something in him that vaguely resembled Aziraphale, and the idea of finding the angel in a place like that made him smile.

Talking to him soon proved to be quite pleasant, he was easy going, likeable and although Crowley noticed that he wasn't really a music expert, for some inexplicable reason he ended up spending much more time just talking to him than he'd intended.

Eventually, and somehow reluctantly, Crowley decided it was time to go, but the man made him promise to return within a couple of days, so that he could show him some Velvet Underground bootlegs. That tickled Crowley's interest so much that when he got home he spoke of nothing else with Aziraphale all the evening.

The angel listened to him indulgently, even though he understood very little of the subject. He was just glad to see Crowley so excited about something, considering that his mood had not been stellar, recently.

Two days later Crowley returned to the store, and the owners still weren't back.

"They're getting old, unfortunately," the blond man stated when Crowley asked about them. "But they'll recover quickly, don't worry." 

“I'm not worried” the demon mumbled, still not at ease whenever he had to show his most caring side.

Whether the guy had heard him or not, he went on to show him a number of rare records, newspaper clippings from the 70's, autographed photographs and so on. It was all really fascinating but when Crowley politely asked for the bootlegs, for the first time the other seemed vaguely embarrassed. "Well, unfortunately looks like my supplier is late. I'm sorry, even though... well, it's not like I'm not happy to have you here" he concluded with a huge smile.

Now it was Crowley's turn to feel awkward. "Doesn't matter, it's not a problem, really," he shrugged.

The other smiled even wider. In that moment he resembled a shark, or something equally dangerous. And fascinating. Something in Crowley's heart jolted.

“Guess what?” The blond guy went on, “I can still show you something, just to make it worth your time. Let's go.”

Crowley tried to object but the man just didn't listen. He headed for the back room, and Crowley ended up following him even though he was more or less beginning to understand what was going on. Human beings, men and women, flirted with him all the time. People were attracted by danger and evil, and his involuntary demonic vibes surely affected them. Sometimes it could even be fun, although Crowley never let things go further than a smile or a wink. He'd never been interested in humans anyway, not in that way, even less since he was with Aziraphale. 

This time, however, there was something different, something in that mysterious man that intrigued him more than it probably should have. In addition, the back room of the shop was like a tiny playground for music lovers. It was packed with memorabilia and Crowley was so impressed he nearly took off his glasses to better appreciate the view.

"I knew you would've liked it," the other said proudly, and his voice brought the demon back down to Earth. When Crowley turned back to him he noticed that he'd gotten closer than he should have been and again, something inside him had a small, barely perceptible jolt.

"That's amazing, where does all this stuff come from?" He said before the silence became too awkward.

"My grandparents, you know, they've been around a lot in their youth."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Here," the guy said, then showed two vinyl records right in Crowley's hands, "not the Velvet Underground but you'll like them anyway."  
The covers were completely black, nothing was written on it. 

"Err, what are these?”

"You'll find out"

"Hu? Fine, tell me how much I owe you. I should be going now."

The other took a step forward, invading Crowley's personal space even more "it's a gift."

Crowley took a small step back, it was starting to be too hot in the small room and all that proximity didn't help. “What? No, I can't, I'm sure they're rarities..."

“Why not? It's full of junk here, no one will even notice if they're missing."

Behind his dark glasses Crowley narrowed his eyes, “what?”

The other didn't move but hurriedly corrected himself, "I mean, grandpa won't mind, he'll be happy to know they went to a real connoisseur like you."

"Look, this is really kind of you, but..."

“You know what? Just take them home, listen to them a couple of times, then come back here and either you pay me or you give them back."

Crowley was actually very tempted, he was curious about the records and deep, deep down, he found himself liking the idea to have a reason to be back to the shop. He couldn't say he liked that guy, there was definitely something unsettling about him, and that was exactly what intrigued him the most. Besides, he truly looked like Aziraphale, which didn't prove anything and Crowley knew it, because he didn't need somebody who looked like the angel, when he had the real one already waiting for him at home.

Thinking about Aziraphale he just felt like hurrying home even more, so that he could be in the sanctuary of his warm embrace, far from that disturbing thoughts. To cut it short he just accepted the offer.

“Alright then” he said finally taking the records. “We've got a deal.”

The other smiled again in a chilling, triumphant way. "Let's seal the deal, then."

“Hu?” was all Crowley could say, then everything happened too fast. The man grabbed his wrists, pulled him toward himself and kissed him square on the lips.

Completely taken aback, Crowley just stood there and let himself be kissed for a few long seconds. Only when he felt the man's tongue aggressively making its way between his lips, he jerked away.

"I can't do this," he said shaking his head.

There was now a predatory and possessive light in the other's gaze, his smile looked more then ever like a wolf's grin, and the blue of his eyes was as cold as ice. “Too late” he said in a low, suggestive voice. “You've already done it.”

Crowley shook his head more vehemently. "No. I didn't do anything,” he said despite feeling as pathetic as he'd never been. “You just caught me by surprise."

This time the other laughed openly, “if you want to put it that way.”

“I... I need to go now.”

The man, who apparently knew no shame, took the demon by the hand preventing him to even get out of the back room. "What's the matter? It's your handsome boyfriend? I promise I can keep a secret."

Crowley didn't like the way the other guy talked about his angel, he didn't like he even knew Aziraphale existed, and above everything else he didn't like the whole situation. He jerked his hand free and hisses "and what do you think you know about him?"

“Nothing” the other shrugged, perfectly unimpressed. “I know guys like you, tho. I can spot a cheater when I see one." 

"I didn't... I'm not a cheater! I didn't do anything!"

“And what has your little, black heart to say about that?” Made bolder by his first victory, the man tapped lightly on Crowley's chest with the tip of his finger. "I bet it made a lovely little jump when we kissed,” he went so far as to blink at Crowley. “Because mine certainly did."

At that the demon finally fled, he didn't actually run, but he still fled because that part was painfully true. Something inside him had happened, probably that same something that had prevented him from stopping the kiss before it even started. He should've gone away the instant he'd recognized the flirt for what it was.

He got in his car and closed the door with a loud bang, then drove even faster than usual. When he was forced to stop in a traffic jam he shifted his gaze to the seat beside him and noticed that he had taken the records with him without even realizing it. He didn't want presents from that man and he didn't want to go back to the shop ever again.

"No no no!" He screamed, banging his hand on the wheel. Anyone who saw him would have simply thought he was one of the many frustrated and stressed London drivers. Crowley's outbrust, instead, had nothing to do with the traffic.

He had just kissed another man. Or he'd let himself be kissed, which was the same. He was the most vile and weak creature ever spewed out of Hell. If he'd let himself be played like that by the first passing idiot, only because he vaguely resembled Aziraphale, then he deserved the most painful discorporation ever.

Aziraphale had always been his happy thought, yet thinking about him was now like stabbing himself in the gut. His beautiful, trusting, perfect angel. How could he possibly have thought there was a resemblance with that crass guy? He didn't have a tenth of the natural charm his angel possessed, his smile was cold while Aziraphale's one was full of love, joy and every beautiful thing ever created. His eyes were blue too, yes, but empty like glass globes, while his angel's eyes were full of warmth and a thousand other emotions. Not to mention the kiss. Just an act of arrogance, violent in its own way, vulgar and demeaning. When Aziraphale kissed him, instead, Crowley felt like flying among the stars.

Everything was as awesome in Aziraphale as it was wrong with his failed clone. Why hadn't he stopped him before it was too late? Why he'd to ruin everything? He'd made a scene just because Aziraphale had talked to the two students, and now, challenged in a very similar situation, he'd failed so miserably. 

He'd been weak and stupid and so blatantly unworthy.

_You're a demon that's what you do_

Every now and then those worlds still haunted him. They'd hurt him, once, and sometimes they still did, like an old wound never completely healed, because there was some truth in them. After all Crowley had always known it. Not that that justified him in any way.

Someone behind him honked quite impatiently, so the demon noticed that the traffic had finally started to flow again. Driving helped him to calm down a bit and after a while he managed to dominate the panic that was flowing through him like a cold tide, keeping him from thinking clearly. The knot in his stomach started to loosen too and he felt the need to stop and think, so he did. He miraculously found a spot to park the Bentley but didn't get out. He just sat there for a long while, simply trying to put two and two together.

That guy at the shop had undoubtedly something alluring in him, but there was also something seriously wrong with him. There was something in his smile that made Crowley think about the two students who had set a trap for Aziraphale. Were the two incidents related somehow? Rationally, he'd say no but his instinct said otherwise. Some coincidences couldn't be overlooked when one still had Heaven and Hell as sworn enemies. 

He was pretty sure all the three of them weren't demons, and they weren't angels either. They could be human but he highly doubted it, at that point, humans felt different, so what were they? And what were they after, exactly? After a long, long while Crowley just had what could be called a true epiphany. 

“Lust, you son of the ugliest, stinkiest bitch!” He screamed at nobody.

He had reviewed a myriad of theories, catalogued in his mind all he knew about every infernal creature he'd ever known and eventually, by exclusion, had come to a conclusion.

He'd never met the Seven Sins before but he knew how they worked and he knew they weren't demons like him, which explained why he hadn't been able to detect their presence before. It all fit, it all almost made sense, now.

His dreams were actually premonitions, which was comforting and disheartening at the same time. So it was knowing that the guy at the record shop was not an average flirt. He'd been tricked by someone who used physical attraction as a superpower, but this didn't make him feel much better. Deep down he knew he didn't deserve any forgiveness for what he'd done. At least not from himself. The only absolution he wanted and needed was Aziraphale's. 

Anyway if his theory was right, if the Sins were on his tracks, he'd to act before it went too far, whatever it was. He'd to find out what they wanted. They were known as a bit of loose cannon freelance agents, their agenda wasn't easy to predict. 

He also had to tell Aziraphale, but that was a brand new problem. How could he talk to him when he didn't even know how to look at him in the face anymore? 

Once at home a thousand times Crowley tried to tell him everything and a thousand times he failed. Every time he felt more of a coward, every time the words died in his throat, forcing him to change the subject while promising himself it would be the last time, yet he never found the right moment to talk, even if he desperately wanted to.

Later that night while Aziraphale lay between his legs, showering him with kisses and caresses, pushing deep inside his body just the way the demon loved the most, Crowley was showing the amount of passion a rag doll would have showed. He lay on his back, just taking whatever Aziraphale was willing to give, while his mind was miles and miles away, to the point that the angel had to notice.

"Crowley, what's up?" He asked as he gently pushed aside a lock of auburn hair from his lover's forehead, even though he feared he already knew the answer. As of lately, it was always the same.

“Nothing, angel, please don't stop.”

Aziraphale sighed, he was buried deep inside his lover's body but he actually stopped. "My dear, you're not yourself lately, what are you worried about?"

Crowley could write an entire encyclopedia about what worried him. The list was long now, he had to live waiting for Hell to make another move and to make things worse, it had just occurred to him that there weren't proofs that Heaven wasn't involved too.

Of course there was the kiss to consider. He just couldn't find a way to alleviate his guilt, which increased over time instead of fading. To kiss Aziraphale, to make love with him, even just to take his hand, made Crowley feel like he was stealing something. 

Now, while Aziraphale's kind and worried eyes looked right into his soul, he took his decision. Before the new day ended he'd tell the angel every single thing he knew or supposed. He simply couldn't wait any longer. Who knew how Aziraphale would react, then. He'd be hurt and disappointed, and probably mad at him too. The only thing he'd ever wanted was to make Aziraphale happy, to show him he deserved his trust, but after not even one year together Crowley had to admit he'd done a ridiculously bad job of it. 

“Please, talk to me,” Aziraphale tried one last time. Then, before the demon could open his mouth he put a finger to his lips, "don't say anything if you're going to lie to me."

All Crowley could offer in response was a slow, deep kiss. That was not the moment to talk. Later, he promised himself, before the new day ended, but for now he decided to be selfish one last time, he wanted that night for himself.

"Maybe it's better if we stop" the angel said sadly.

"No!" Crowley literally clung to his body. He desperately needed him even though he knew he didn't deserve anything. He raised his hips and a groan of pleasure escaped them both. Aziraphale couldn't resist any longer, he knew he was only going to postpone the problem, because there was a problem, but Crowley's body felt so impossibly good around his painfully erected cock, incredibly warm and tight, and he just had to go back to move his hips, although with deliberate slowness. 

"I don't pretend you always tell me everything, you know? I'm just worried."

Love and concern and so many other feelings were so evident in the angel's beautiful eyes, that Crowley had to fight back the tears.

"I happen to dream, lately," he admitted. It was only a small part of the truth, he knew it, but at the moment it was all he could give. 

Aziraphale pushed a bit harder, "about what?"

“Ah! I don't know, they're not pleasant dreams" Crowley panted.

"My dear boy, I'm sorry. Why didn't you tell me sooner? I could've helped.”

"It's not your fault and I don't even remember what the dreams are about, so..."

Aziraphale kept on moving his hips slowly, taking Crowley deep and gently because sex always reassured him. "I love you, you know that, don't you?" He added after a while.

With a monumental lump in his throat, Crowley could only nod.

Framing the demon's face between the arms he had placed on the pillow, Aziraphale kissed him again and again, until he heard him moan with pleasure, then spoke once again. "I love you more than anything else in the world."

When Aziraphale talked like that and above all looked at him that way, Crowley remained completely disarmed. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know what to say, he didn't even know what to think. He wanted to tell Aziraphale that he loved him desperately too, but he wasn't good at those things, he could only swallow the tears, again, cling to his angel and keep on being incredulous of the sheer luck he had. Especially at that moment, when he felt more unworthy than ever of anything good God had ever created. A demon, rejected from Heaven, had ended up on the receiving hand of such a pure, total and overwhelming love. 

"Make love to me, Aziraphale, please” was all he could manage. Weakness, after all, was only one among his many faults.

Aziraphale knew there was so much more to talk about, but it really seemed like Crowley needed him and he, in turn, wanted the demon with all his soul. 

Maybe tomorrow they could talk, for real, but right now he'd to take care of the demon. Crowley met his thrusts, digging his long fingers through his soft blond curls, giving himself up to the most absolute pleasure and Aziraphale couldn't form any coherent thoughts anymore. 

*****

"Satan's horns! You really are a disaster, all of you!"

"Don't you even fucking dare, Wrath!" Lust said gritting his teeth. He felt already humiliated enough, he had snatched just a kiss from Crowley and then the stupid demon had fled like a coward. That was undeniably a failure. To stop him he'd have to resort to physical strength and it'd not been the right time for that, yet. Not in full daylight, not in a place where anyone could see. 

“What a pity,” said Gluttony “I liked you plan.”

Wrath ignored her and her brother's foul look. "Enough with these childish games, obviously they don't work."

"So what do you propose?"

"Anger, of course. Anger will divide them, at least for a while. It'll be enough."

"You'll fail like everyone else," Sloth stated, then she held up a hand to stop her sister before she could vomit any insult at her. "We need to add something else to the mix."

The other Sins, all gathered in their living room as usual, listened carefully. She seemed to really have an idea, as it was rare for Sloth to participate in their conversations.

"Fear, of course," she said. "Fear always makes the difference and strengthens negative feelings."

"Tsk, how typical" commented Pride, but couldn't find anything to criticize. Sloth had a point.

Wrath instead smiled sharply, "not bad for a slacker, after all." She enjoyed negative feelings, all of them. Like her siblings, she almost basked into them. "I'll take care of it, that traitor will come with us of his own volition, you'll see." 

The others laughed cynically.

"Now you're just delusional!" Greed sneered.

"I'll show you delusional!"

“I want to come!” Chirped Gluttony instead.

“We're not going to actually eat him, at least not yet, you know that, right?”

“I know, I know, but I'm bored and I want to come”

Wrath sighed, she didn't have the patience to argue with her sister and besides there wasn't any reason for her not to come along. “Fine. And you,” she said to Pride “you'll come with us.”

“Why?”

“What, did you already have a prior engagement?”

Pride scoffed. He honestly thought that to put so much effort into capturing a single, low class, outcast demon wasn't worth his time. It was beneath them all, actually, but he had nothing better to do so in the end he accepted to go with his sisters. 

****

Crowley and Aziraphale returned home after a morning at the museum. The angel had wanted to go for a while and Crowley indulged him because he loved spoiling him, but also because he still needed some time to gather the courage to finally talk. 

Aziraphale, for his part, was in a good mood, all things considered, the cool morning breeze had invigorated him and he was glad he'd found a way to distract Crowley from his gloomy thoughts. When he proposed to stop somewhere for lunch Crowley immediately said yes and he took it as a good sign. Maybe if he could make him relax enough once at home he would've been more inclined to talk.

They strolled around for a while, after lunch, chatting about this and that, they even bought ice creams despite the cold weather, then Crowley noticed that a movie he really wanted to see had just came out, so they also went to the theatre.

After that, there really were no more excuses to not go home. It was getting slightly too chilly for Crowley anyway, and Aziraphale already looked forward to some hot chocolate.

As they approached home the demon became more taciturn. He had made a promise to himself, and the day was now coming to an end. He definitely could no longer postpone that conversation and to be afraid to talk to Aziraphale was stupid in the first place. Still, he was starting to feel nervous. 

If the angel noticed something he didn't comment on it. Once he opened the shop's front door, however, he stopped so suddenly that Crowley almost run into him.

"Oh good Lord!" Aziraphale's voice sounded so distressed that Crowley understood something really bad had happened even before being able to look inside. 

When he did the blood in his veins froze. It looked like a bomb had exploded inside the shop. The books were scattered everywhere, most of the shelves were overturned, the teapot had fallen to the ground breaking into a thousand pieces, and what was left of the water had soaked some of the books on the floor. 

For a moment he felt like the day he'd found the shop burning, when he'd thought he'd lost Aziraphale forever. He tried to take his hand to reassure him, but also to tell himself that the angel, at least, was fine, Aziraphale instead chose just that moment to start functioning again.

He went inside gingerly, as if he expected that whoever had been to create that chaos popped out from behind a corner to attack them, but there was nobody.

Crowley immediately followed him and looked around unable to say a single word. His wrists were now trembling with rage. Next to him, Aziraphale was saying something about thefts and thieves, but he knew human criminals had nothing to do with that disaster. His own cowardice had led to that point. What would have happened to Aziraphale if he'd been home alone when they arrived?

Crowley was sure that the angel could hold his own in any fight, but that wasn't enough to ease his fears. The point was that Aziraphale didn't have to fight, he didn't want him in any kind of danger in the first place. The point was also that his beautiful shop was ruined and for what? Sending a message? What if a rare copy of some precious text had been irremediably ruined? A cold hand crushed the demon's heart, it was all his fault, that was a fact. If Aziraphale would ever forgive him, well, that remained to be seen.

As if moving on autopilot, Crowley straightened two small armchairs and took the angel by the hand. Aziraphale, who was still looking around the shop as a lost child, let himself be guided and sat down without protesting.

"Angel," Crowley said lowering his gaze. “There is something you need to know.”

Only then Aziraphale really looked at him. Crowley could immediately recognize the shadows of doubt in his blue irises, and the plea too. Somehow the angel knew, or at least had sensed that he'd something to do with that mess. Surely he'd been able to read it in Crowley's face and now was begging him to tell him that his fears were unfounded. 

What Crowley would've given to fulfill that desire!

Aziraphale sat perfectly still, incapable to look at Crowley in the eyes and with such an anguish on his face that the demon feared he could discorporate from that alone. He had put it there, trying to protect Aziraphale in the end he'd wounded him badly.

He'd finally told him everything, from the first nightmare to that cursed kiss. It'd even felt good, to finally get it all off his chest, albeit the relief had lasted just a few seconds. Now the angel looked broken as he'd never seen him.

Crowley wanted to hold his hand, but he didn't dare anymore, instead he swallowed a couple of times before being able to talk “Aziraphale? Say something, please.”

The angel still wasn't looking at him, but at least spoke. "Not demons, then?"

"Not really, or I'd have sensed them."

“Then what are these Deadly Sins, exactly?”At that point, Aziraphale had very little patience left for Crowley's riddles. He needed to know, to understand.

Again, Crowley swallowed. “I'm not sure, angel.”

Aziraphale furrowed his brow. After all, he decided, he didn't really care. "Your people, anyway."

“Don’t say that”

"Whatever, creatures of Hell."

Crowley only nodded.

"And you really never met them before?" The angel's coldness hurt, so did that silent implication that he was lying, again. Crowley knew he deserved it, though. Then there was the fact that Aziraphale was avoiding addressing the proverbial elephant in the room, the kiss. Crowley would almost have preferred to have the angel yell at him. 

“Never. I think maybe we didn't want to see. I didn't want to see."

Aziraphale sighed, his gaze still fixed on the ground where his books lay scattered. Crowley stood up then, he couldn't stand to have him so close, yet so far away. Leaning against the desk he patiently waited for the angel to say something, anything; he'd gladly take his reprimand, he was almost looking forward to it so that he could throw himself at Aziraphale's feet and beg for his forgiveness, then he could happily spend the rest of the eternity kissing the ground beneath the angel's feet. The idea of humiliating himself had never felt so appealing before.

Aziraphale however, let some more time pass without a single world. Crowley was already thinking about something to say, but in the end the angel spoke first. 

"You said you'd never lie to me," the tone of his voice sent shivers down the demon's spine and he knew then that things were much worse than he had suspected. 

_You're a demon, that's what you do _

Again those words, and the painful truth behind them, came back to him. He was a demon, nothing good could came of him because it simply wasn't in his nature, and it couldn't be helped. The proof was right there in front of him: Aziraphale, hurt, betrayed, disappointed. And probably two minutes away from breaking up with him. Waiting was simply excruciating, not even Beelzebub himself could have imagined a worse torture.

Crowley had to call on all his courage to at least try to answer "I... I didn't..."

Finally the angel looked at him, but it'd have been much better for the demon if he never had. 

"There're a lot of things you didn't tell me, Crowley, and just so happens you left out the most important parts. You even kissed another man, for goodnes's sake, and now you're implying some creatures from Hell made you do it? It's the same as lying."

“I’m... I'm not implying... Angel I swear I was trying to protect you."

"From what, exactly?"

“I told you all I know” Crowley said in a small voice, with his arms crossed so to hide the trembling in his hands, but Aziraphale was now like a river in flood, the frail levee of his self control was fatally breaking. There was just so much hurt and fear and grief his heart could stand.

"Now you did! If those... beings hadn't been here today I still wouldn't know a single thing!"

"I wanted to tell you, I'd have done it today no matter what. But I swear I didn't kiss him, I never even wanted to!"

Aziraphale, though, wasn't listening anymore and had reached a point where he couldn't stop himself from raising his voice. "Good grief, do you have any idea what would've become of me if something happened to you? If they attacked you while I just stood here like an idiot, thinking that everything was fine? What if something happened while I didn't have the chance to even lift a finger to prevent it? What would have become of me then?"

“I didn't think of it that way, Aziraphale, I'm truly sorry.” It was too little and too late, the demon was painfully aware of it.

Aziraphale, in fact, didn't feel relieved at all. Why Crowley had to treat him like a fool? Why he, of all people, had to act just like his ex-colleagues in Heaven? And why, after claiming to have loved him for 6000 years he'd to go an kiss a guy he barely knew? If his theory was correct that Lust guy had used some sort of uncanny ability, but for some reason that didn't make it hurt any less.

Suddenly he opened his eyes wide, as if he'd been stabbed in the back, an in a sense it was just how he felt. He calmed down all at once, as if any strength to fight had just left his body. “We made love tonight and you weren't even there.”

Crowley's head was spinning, now. He hoped against all hope that Aziraphale wasn't suggesting he'd been thinking about somebody else while making love to him but the only think he could manage was a barely audible "I'm so sorry." He so wished it was just another nightmare, he wished harder then ever before, but nothing happened. He didn't wake up warm and safe in Aziraphale's harms, and by the looks of thing he wouldn't any time soon or ever again.

"How many times have I asked you if everything was fine?" Aziraphale's eyes were now full of tears. Crowley could no longer bear to be so far away from him and knelt on the carpet beside him, still not daring to take his hands. "It won't happen again, my angel, I swear."

"You also swore you wouldn't lie to me," Aziraphale said again and at that point Crowley started to be really scared. The angel was forgiving by his nature but he too, had his breaking point and he'd just reached it.

"I trusted you. For millennia, despite everything, and against my better judgement, I always believed I could trust you."

"You can trust me, Aziraphale, you really can. I'll never lie to you again. Now you are just overreacting."

At that point Crowley had a certainty and only one. If that conversation didn't kill him, he would just swallow a glass of holy water. Such stupidity simply wasn't compatible with any form of life, not even the lowest.

"Overreacting, you say?"

"No, listen.” Now Crowley was positively panicking. “It came out all wrong, I was wrong, I'm sorry. About everything, but angel, I was trying to protect you, this has to count for something."

“Protect me?! Leaving me in the dark about everything? Treating me like an idiot? Denying the evidence? Kissing a random guy after making me feel guilty for just talking to people?"

"I told you I didn't kiss him!"

“I don't want to talk about him now!”

“But... but...”

“For goodness sake, what are we even supposed to do now? I do not intend to run anymore. Probably we should just wait for their next move.”

Crowley opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. He really had no idea what to do, think or say anymore so he said the first think that came to his mind, as lame as it was. “By the way, I never intended to make you feel guilty.”

Azirphale levelled him with a scorching glare. "You know what, Crowley? I changed my mind! We're talking about that too!"

"Aaaargh angel, you're confusing me!"

Aziraphale took a deep sigh to calm his nerves, the demon had a point, that conversation wasn't going anywhere. "Crowley, I love you." 

It was the first real sigh of relief that the demon conceded himself since they'd arrived at home. If Aziraphale still loved him then everything would end up well, and he could go straight back to Plan A, prostrate and humiliate himself and, with time, possibly, be forgiven. "I love you too, that's the whole point." 

Aziraphale still wasn't feeling too forgiving, though, so he went on in a stern voice "I don't doubt it, but Crowley, your love is selfish. You were selfish. You did what you did hiding behind the pretense that you were protecting me while you were just protecting yourself."

Now, Crowley knew ha'd been selfish, but those words sounded just like such a monumental injustice, that in addition to sorrow and anguish and panic and confusion, he felt his own anger burn. Throughout his long life he'd always loved the angel and th angel alone, putting him first even back in the days when he'd been sure Aziraphale would never love him back and he had no regrets, he'd do it all again from the beginning, but now the angel was belittling his feelings and he couldn't stand it. How naïve of him to think he'd already reached the bottom! In truth Aziraphale knew how to be irritating every now and then, and sometimes in the past he'd hurt him, but he'd never been so deliberately cruel. Aziraphale had aimed at Crowley's heart and had hit it in full.

Still kneeling on the carpet at his feet, Crowley straightened his back. "This isn't fair," he said in a cold, flat and distant tone that finally got Aziraphale's full attention.

He immediately regretted his own harsh words even if he'd meant them, albeit only for a tiny, brief moment. He was angry, scared, but he'd seen in Crowley's golden eyes the exact moment he'd broken his heart. And Crowley deserved better, despite everything, he always had.

They'd managed to hurt each other badly and now Aziraphale feared they'd only make things worse if they kept talking. He needed to think, to take in everything and process it.

"I believe we need some time.” He said, and he had to admit it wasn't always easy to tell the truth because what he'd meant was I need some time. Alone.

For the first few seconds, it didn't even seem unreasonable, to Crowley. Time to throw that misunderstanding behind their backs? They had plenty of it. It was only a few moments later that those words really sank in. Aziraphale wanted time away from him.

On the floor, with his hands in his lap and pure misery in his heart, he lowered his head looking in all respect like a penitent waiting for retribution. "You mean you're leaving me then?" He managed somehow.

“N... no. no. I didn’t say that” Aziraphale stammered.

Crowley looked now completely devastated, "and who's lying now?"

The angel tried to answer but could only babble something incomprehensible, so he stood up, unable to look into the demon's eyes anymore. "I... I think I need some fresh air."

Crowley also got up, his movements a lot less elegant than usual. He almost tripped over one of the books, but when by instinct Aziraphale tried to help him regain his balance, Crowley refused to take his hand. He straightened his back, put his glasses on and appealed to whatever was left of his courage to find his voice once more. "This is your house" Aziraphale could've pointed out it was their house, now, but he didn't and Crowley knew it was over. His life, his happiness, his hope. His everything. “I will go, it's the least I can do."

"Where?"

The demon shrugged "you care?"

"Look, I don't think your flat is safe, just stay here, I will leave. I mean, for a while."

"I'm not a human puppy that you can ground, Aziraphale. I took care of myself just fine for six millennia, I'm not going to stop now."

"Crowley, please let's be rational. If you're right those seven Sins must still be around."

That's why I want you safe at home, Crowley though but didn't say. The look he gave him, instead, was so cold it could've frozen the inside of a volcano, "it'll be my pleasure to have a few words with them."

With that Crowley left with too much in his head to notice cold, black eyes monitoring his moves for afar, while Aziraphale remained completely alone, in the middle of the devastation his life had just become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I made myself feel bad with this chapter. I hope you all are fine? Also, I think it'll only get worse from now on ^^'  
As usual thank you for reading, I'd be really happy to know what you think ;)
> 
> Title track --> U2 - So Cruel https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6snI72LGfP4


	4. What you want and what you need

Alone, with his tangled thoughts as his only companions, Aziraphale felt so empty inside he didn't even have the strength to miracle his shop back into hits original status. To see it wrecked had upset him, to know that Crowley had lied to him for a long time had hurt him, and to find out that he'd even kissed another man had ripped his heart apart, yet to see the demon go away had frightened him much more than he'd ever thought possible. 

The angel looked at the door hoping against all hopes to see Crowley coming back, or storm inside, or even yell at him, but nothing happened, and he was left dealing with guilt and regrets, beyond everything else.

The demon always came back, always forgave him whenever he said hurtful things and Aziraphale did his best to not take advantage of it, except it was more or less what he was doing: waiting for Crowley to come back just because. That time, however, it was different and there was something inside the angel telling him it wouldn't be so easy. Crowley was good at hiding his feelings, and whatever he considered a weakness, but Aziraphale knew him too well by now and he was fully aware of the impact of his own words. 

He shouldn't have let his most destructive emotions prevail, he shouldn't have let himself be dominated by anger and fear, that kind of behaviour could only led to a disaster, in fact it was just what had happened. He'd been so harsh with Crowley, perhaps too harsh. His own words echoed forcefully in his head, making Aziraphale ashamed of himself, despite the fact that Crowley wasn't completely innocent either.

He hadn't mean to break up with the demon anyway, but he'd been totally honest when he'd said he needed some time alone. The truth was Aziraphale wasn't sure he knew what he wanted or needed, at that point, and of course Crowley had to take it in the worst possible way. As strong and brave as the demon was, he was also very fragile in that sense. 

Aziraphale sat tiredly on an armchair, well aware that he should've thought about the new threat looming over them both, rather than their personal problems, but he just couldn't forget the way Crowley had looked at him while asking if Aziraphale was breaking up with him, and he hadn't been able to immediately say no.

The moment Crowley had told he loved him came back to the angel's mind with shocking clarity as well. Those words didn't come easy to Crowley, although he showed his feelings every day, with a thousand gestures, small or big. For Aziraphale it'd always been enough, even if he'd to admit it was nice to hear the words, sometimes. That night he'd simply been too upset, too angry and too focused on himself to even listen to them and now he felt as if he had thrown a tiny, precious jewel to the winds.

Crowley had been right about one thing at least, it'd been really unfair to call him selfish and now the angel didn't even know why he'd done so. He knew that everything Crowley did, he did it for him, even if sometimes he could be clumsy in his attempts to help. But Aziraphale wasn't immune to mistakes just because he was an angel, he'd never been and he'd just proven it. He too lied, sometimes, and he'd kept important informations from Crowley in the past.

They were just two sides of the same coin, as they'd always been, and to part ways in a moment like that was really unwise. It made them both unwhole and thus weaker, and it was probably what their enemies wanted. Aziraphale rushed out, then, as naïve as it may sound he was sure that everything could be fixed until they were together, but he'd waited far too long and there was no trace of Crowley and his Bentley.

He tried several times to call him on the phone but the demon had evidently turned it off, so Aziraphale went straight to his flat and knocked at the door several times, but no one answered. After all the Bentley wasn't there so Crowley had to be somewhere else. He waited to no avail in the hallway for a long time, until his trepidation turned to tiredness, so just before the sun rose, defeated and resigned, Aziraphale headed back to Soho.

After leaving the shop Crowley drove aimlessly, with his fingers too tight around the steering wheel and his foot too heavy on the accelerator. When he simply didn't feel like driving anymore, he killed the engine in the middle of the road and realized just then to be in the small, deserted square of a village, probably several miles out of London. It looked like Tadfield somehow, which didn't help much because despite everything, that place brought back happy memories of a fight fought and won with the angel by his side. Now, Crowley was completely alone.

Even in the state he was in, full of anger, despair and vengeful fury, he knew he'd no chance of winning if he'd to fight alone. On the other hand he didn't want to put the angel in danger any more than he already was, so although he didn't like the idea, maybe the right thing to do was to hide and convince Aziraphale to do the same, at least until he could find out what the enemies wanted. He held the phone in his hand for a long time, trying to talk himself into turning it on again, but in the end he gave up. He no longer had the strength to argue. 

He looked up at the church tower clock and saw that it was well past midnight, which explained why there was not a living soul around. He stood there for a long time, in the dark, wondering what the Hell had happened. He'd spent centuries, literally, protecting his angel, if he could still consider Aziraphale _his_, and he could even claim of having done almost always a decent job. This time, instead, he'd fucked up in every single possible way, creating a mess he didn't have a single idea how to fix. He'd tried to explain and apologize and it had all exploded in his face. Now, to think that Aziraphale might never forgive him was just like salt on a still bleeding wound. Maybe he just had to go back to his flat and wait for the Sins to come to him, so at least everything would be over, one way or another.

When finally Crowley returned home it was already morning and he hadn't solved any single one of his problems. He decided to rest just a bit before trying to talk to Aziraphale once more, but he couldn't sleep. After uselessly tossing and turning in bed for a while, he opted for an hot shower to chase away some of the tension in his muscles.

He finally switched his phone on, not without a fair amount of hesitation. There were no messages, which wasn't even that surprising because Aziraphale had never gotten along with technology anyway. Despite knowing this, Crowley found that lack of communication quite frustrating. He left the phone on the huge desk in the living room and headed for the shower. The hot water at least melted away the tension from his back and shoulders, making him feel a little better.

He was buttoning his jeans with tired hands when the phone ringing made him startle in an undignified way. In a single moment of pride Crowley went dangerously close to not taking the call, then he thought about how disappointed Aziraphale would've been if he'd ignored him and ran, shirtless and barefoot, to grab the phone before it stopped ringing, only to find out he didn't know how to make his voice work anymore.

Aziraphale, for his part, looked like he could speak for two. “Crowley! Good grace, finally! Where've you been, where're you now?” Then, without waiting for an answer, he went on in a calmer voice “please, we need to talk."

The demon sighed. He was expecting a similar request, he was even relieved that Aziraphale had sought him out, but he couldn't explain himself any better than he'd already done, and recently it was as if every word the angel said was put there only to hurt him. Crowley knew he just deserved it, but had already had as much as he could take. 

He was depressed and tired and he didn't have the strength, at the moment, to face Aziraphale's accusations. Maybe it was the coward way out, but it was better to focus only on the practical side of the problem.

"I'm at my flat but I need a safer place and you do too."

"Well, yes, possibly but first there are some things I need to tell you."

“Aziraphale, I... I don't feel like talking right now."

"Then let me do the talking, you just listen for a minute, please?"

Crowley sighed. Aziraphale was asking, politely as usual. This didn't mean he wasn't going to say something horrible, something Crowley didn't want to hear, but even now he just couldn't deny him anything.

“Alright” he said with the same optimism of somebody who was about to cross a ravine on a bridge made of cardboard.

The angel remained silent for a few moments, as if he needed to rearrange his thoughts, which was true to some degree. He wasn't expecting to find Crowley so meek and subdued, he couldn't decide if it was a good or a bad sign. 

"They tempted me too, you know that,” he started in a soft voice, before Crowley could change his mind. “I stopped them in time, you didn't and this hurt me, I won't deny it. I also asked you if something was bothering you and you lied to my face. This hurt too."

Crowley squeezed his eyes tightly, swallowing bitter tears. Even if he'd known what to say he wouldn't have found the voice, so Aziraphale went on.

"I wanted to hurt you too, I guess, but now I'm so deeply ashamed of myself! I... I'm not the perfect boyfriend and all the things I said, I should've said them differently, I didn't even mean them and surely I shouldn't have treated you the way I did, but Crowley, I don't know what I'm doing more than you do. You see, this is all new to me as it is to you and I... my dear, I was hoping we could learn together?"

At that point Aziraphale, too, had to stop. His emotions were getting the better of him and he felt like he'd made a really messy job of explaining himself. He needed to know that Crowley at least understood, for real, what he was trying to say, but the only thing coming from the other side was bleak silence. 

"Crowley please," he begged with a quivering voice. Surely the demon could appreciate at least the effort.

A few more seconds of absolute silence, and Aziraphale realized that Crowley had hung up on him. "Oh, very mature, really!" He said putting the phone down too, with more energy than necessary.

To lay his heart bare like he'd done, just to get rejected like that was dangerously close to be the last straw. He was half tempted to go to the demon and tell him off for the childish way he'd avoided that conversation, the other half was tempted to forget his very existence for at least a decade, just to teach him a lesson. Yet, that night without Crowley had been completely hideous. Centuries of loneliness hadn't always been easy to bear, and as infuriating as Crowley had just been, Aziraphale had grown quite fond of having him around. As fond as he'd grown of playing with soft auburn hair while reading at night, with the comforting weight of the demon's body sprawled over his own.

No matter what, as much as he'd wanted some time for himself, the angel had also found out that he simply couldn't stand the distance between himself and Crowley. 

At the same time, though, there was another part of him, a small corner of his heart where pain, fear and disappointment still stood nested like small, devious parasites poisoning his heart, leading him to think that if Crowley had decided to behave like a silly child, then it was his loss. He'd taken the first step and all he'd got was a wall of silence, which just added insult to injury.

Pride is a sin, though Aziraphale tried to remind himself, still standing next to his desk with his eyes fixed on the phone, knowing too well it was to no avail, Crowley was just too stubborn. In the end, torn and uncertain more than ever, Aziraphale listened to his wounded heart and decided that maybe to let Crowley stew in his own juices for a few hours, would help him grow up a little. He'd wait until lunch time and if the stupid demon didn't show up or call by then, he'd find him at the end of the world specifically to tell him how stupid he was.

*****

"You shouldn't be on the phone when you have guests, it's really rude."

Crowley's fierce gaze would've frozen the blood in anyone's veins, but Wrath felt strong because she knew she had the upper hand. Pride was with her, leaning listlessly against the wall, eerily silent, but ready to intervene, and they had their other siblings to count on, anyway. It was wonderfully treacherous.

"By the way, I'm Wrath, this is my brother Pride, I don't think we've been introduced before."

"I don't care," Crowley growled. All he wanted was the phone she had taken from him, coming from behind his back, silent as a cat. The intruders had probably got inside while he was in the shower, but it didn't matter at that point. Crowley only wanted to call Aziraphale. Now the angel was surely thinking that he didn't want to talk to him and Crowley just couldn't allow it. He surely hadn't been ready for an heart to heart conversation, but he'd never hang up on him like that. Especially not when Aziraphale was claiming to not be perfect. How could the angel even think something like that? He also was desperate to know what Aziraphale woul've said next, because it hadn't looked like he was going to break up with him.

"You know," Wrath began, unfazed,"love is really a strange thing."

Crowley clenched his fists, "whatever you think you know about it is wrong.”

"You think so?"

"Gimme my phone back and leave," he really had no patience for her, her games and any bullshit she thought she had to say. He just wanted to be sure Aziraphale was fine because it'd just occurred to him that five of the sins were not in sight and to think that they could be attacking his angel while he wasted time with two of them was terrifying.

Wrath obviously didn't even consider his request. "That angel of yours is really an interesting creature, I've seen him. I can see why he has caught your attention. Wouldn't it be a shame if something happened to him?"

Crowley eye rolled so hard he almost gave himself an headache, "let me guess, this is where I promise you that if you even look at him the wrong way I'll end you?"

"Oh no, this must be a terrible misunderstanding,” Wrath said with an unreadable expression on her face. “You can't win against us, and besides we're on the same side, we want to protect him."

“Sure! And from what, exactly?"

"From you, of course."

Crowley sighed, “you must be on drugs.” That conversation was already proving to be exhausting, and it surely wasn't going anywhere. 

"Don't be absurd," Wrath's voice then became falsely sweet and annoyingly condescending. "That...thing you call love will bring the angel to ruin, sooner or later, you already know that, don't you? This pretty fairy tale you imagined for yourself is just a house of cards waiting to collapse while you stand by and watch."

"I don't think you have even the slightest idea of what you're talking about, and I still want my phone back," Crowley said raising his chin and crossing his arms, but in his heart he knew she was at least in part right.

"Then why are you so scared?"

“I'm not!”

“You can't lie to me about that, I can sense it.”

"She knows” Crowley snapped. “She must have known since the beginning and yet Aziraphale is still an angel. He won't fall!"

"There are many ways to fall. Not necessarily his wings will turn black, not necessarily he'll stop being an angel."

Crowley said nothing at that, not so much because he wanted to know where Wrath wanted to go with that argument, but because so many times he'd followed that same train of thoughts. He couldn't stop the cold shiver running down his back. 

"A demon's love is impure, incomplete, corrupt. I know that because I'm like you. Sooner or later you'll be selfish, you'll be cruel, because this is just what you are. You can't hide your true nature forever, and you'll hurt him, but he's too good and too kind to leave, isn't he?"

"Well, he's actually a little bastard" Crowley said, trying to hide how much her words were scaring him. Every single thing she'd said had actually already happened. 

It didn't work, anyway, Wrath knew she'd already won. "He'll suffer in silence, he'll even try to take the blame, is this really what you want? To keep him in a cage, prisoner of his own kindness?"

Every word was like a nail sticking deep into Crowley's heart. _Your love is selfish. You were selfish_, that was exactly what Aziraphale had told him a few hours before, with his beautiful eyes full of the pain that Crowley had inflicted on him. He'd been jealous and possessive to the point that Aziraphale, an ancient being who had defied Heaven and Hell, had felt the need to ask a demon, of all people, for permission just to go and visit a library. 

Then the circumstances had showed that it'd all been a trap, but it didn't mean anything in Crowley's eyes. In that moment he could only see his own faults. 

Wrath was an evil creature, a Sin, but Crowley knew how the truth could be sometimes much more effective than lies if you wanted to hurt someone, so he didn't doubt that her intentions were as malicious as they could be, yet this didn't mean she wasn't right. 

Because she was.

He'd to appeal to all of his courage to keep his voice steady, “just tell me what you want then go back to Hell.” 

“I want you to come home with us. I want you to be a real demon again. You know, Lord Beelzebub can be merciful.”

At that Crowley positively snorted, but he couldn't do or say anything else because suddenly everything turned black.

"I mean, I know we're eternal, but you're taking forever," Gluttony chirped with a big wooden rolling pin in her hand. She'd found it in Crowley's perfectly equipped and perfectly unused kitchen.

Wrath was definitely less enthusiastic about her sister's discovery, in fact she looked at her furiously, clenched her fists and stomped her foot, "why did you have to interrupt me, you idiot! Everything was going so well, he'd have come with us willingly!"

"Don't be such a drama queen," Pride interfered, speaking for the first time. "There'll be plenty of time to play with him when we get home." He was quite bored and wasn't against speeding up the job a little. 

"But that's no fun, you two have no style! Besides, now we'll have to carry him, this'll drive too much attention on us!"

Pride shrugged, it wasn't like they couldn't erase human's memory, one way or another. Or erase humans altogether, which was even better.

In the meantime, while Crowley lay face down on the floor, unconscious, Gluttony crouched beside him. "A nice treat, there's no denying it."

"You are unbearable," Wrath growled, still mad at her, then realized she still had the demon's phone in her hand and threw it on the floor for good measure. The device ended up in pieces, but she wasn't satisfied at all. "Let's go now” she ordered, “before that ugly, fat angel shows up. I hate him!"

When they reached Hell Crowley was conscious again but still quite dizzy, thanks to Gluttony's blow. His head throbbed painfully and he was cold. He barely noticed he was still only in his jeans because he was too busy observing that he was also really in trouble. He had no friends down there, that was for sure, and he had no way of letting Aziraphale know what had happened. 

The memory of their last phone call burned inside him more than the holy water ever could. Crowley wished he'd told him something, anything, but not a single word had come to his mind, and now he felt like the biggest failure ever. Aziraphale was probably thinking that he'd rejected him, that he didn't want him anymore, while all Crowley wanted was to declare his own idiocy to the world and beg the angel to love him again. He could've punched himself for missing the chance when he'd had it.

The only little solace the demon had left was the hope that Aziraphale was safe. He did his best to convince himself that Hell would leave him alone if only to avoid a war, it was all he had to keep himself sane.

While Pride held him by the arm, pushing him roughly,  
thinking about the angel gave Crowley the strength to keep his head high and his back straight, even when they entered a large, semi-dark room, and Pride forced him to his knees.

Crowley wanted to believe that if only he'd had a little time to think he'd have found a way out of that mess, but then Wrath and Gluttony, who had gone away for a while, came back. This time they weren't alone. When Crowley saw Beelzebub approaching slowly, without any hurry in the world, as if his presence there didn't matter that much, his confidence started to falter dangerously.

Here was the best, or worst, of Satan's lieutenants looking at him as if he were a bug to be crushed and Crowley was scared, but also angry. Immensely. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. They were supposed to let them be, both Hell and Heaven, at least for a while. What had changed so soon and so drastically? Not that one should ever trust Hell in the first place, but in Crowley's opinion it still sucked royally.

When Beelzebub's small, cold hand stroked his hair in a grotesque caress, Crowley didn't delude himself that he'd receive any kindness and in fact, before he could think of a sarcastic joke to take time, the grip on his hair tightened painfully, forcing his head back. 

"I wasn't hoping to see you again so soon,” Beelzebub said. “Welcome home, traitor.” His face was dangerously close to Crowley's, he betrayed no emotion, but all of his being radiated hate.

"You can't kill me, my lord," Crowley tried. "We've already been there."

A contraction of the lips that should've been a smile but looked much more like a nightmare, appeared on Beelzebub's face. "This is true,” he conceded, still too close to Crowley for comfort.

"Then let me go," the demon tried uselessly. They wouldn't let him go for a very, very long time. He was staring to understand what the purpose of that 'trip' was. They thought they couldn't kill him, but they'd still have a lot of fun making him beg for a merciful discorporation. 

Behind his back, in fact, Wrath snorted a little evil laugh.

"Maybe someday, if you earn it" Beelzebub said with a shrug that clearly said how little he cared about Crowley's future.

Gluttony giggled jovially, and Pride put on an air of particularly annoying triumph.

"For now you'll stay with us, it'll do you good." With those words, Beelzebub finally let go of Crowley's hair and straightened his back. 

"Not bad," he then told the Sins.

"Thank you, my lord," answered Pride, his sisters respectfully bowed their heads.

Beelzebub no longer paid any attention to the prisoner, but nodded a command to the three Sins before disappearing into the dark meanders of the Hell dimension. With an harsh tug that made his aching head throb even more, Crowley was forced to get up and start walking again. 

He didn't resist, it would've been pointless, instead he did his best to memorize the way through the narrow and dark corridors, up to the door of heavy, rusty metal where they made him stop. Gluttony opened it and Pride pushed him without any kindness, so the demon stumbled inside a huge room, much longer than it was wide, poorly lit, with gray walls and a concrete floor that felt even colder than the corridor, under his bare feet. The air itself was much colder in there, too. It had to be a special gift for him, courtesy of the welcoming committee. Crowley knew that that was just the beginning.

When the heavy iron door closed with a loud thud, he felt as if he'd swallowed a brick. He didn't want to give his enemies the satisfaction to hear him knock pathetically against the door. Instead he focused, he tried and tried again, but no demonic miracle or effort of will worked, and the massive door stayed closed.

*****

Aziraphale managed to keep his resolve to let Crowley be for a total of one point fortysix hours, which he spent fixing his shop and glancing languidly at the phone that insisted on not ringing. Sometimes he took the device in his hand, toying with it for a while, then he put it back down and tried to read, or dust his poor books, or make some cocoa, but after the umpteenth cup of hot chocolate turned cold, after reading and reading the same page again, he gave up and dialled Crowley's number.

It looked like the demon's phone was off. Again.

Aziraphale gave it another try after ten minutes, then after half an hour and finally, completely done, he put the phone away and left. He marched, rather than walk, toward Crowley's flat, determined to tell him every single think he had to say. He was ready to tie the demon on a chair an make him listen, if necessary, albeit the idea was quite unworthy of an angel. Crowley really deserved the scolding of the century, though, and he'd get it. He just couldn't avoid talking to him, or even worse think Aziraphale didn't love him anymore, just because they'd had an argument.

However, when Aziraphale arrived in front of the building and saw the Bentley parked there, it all felt suddenly much more real, and he hesitated. His heart was pounding, rejection had hurt quite a lot the first time, besides he didn't want to force Crowley to talk if he really wasn't ready. Maybe, he wondered, it was too soon for them both.

He stood on the sidewalk for a few long minutes, he even considered returning home, but finally he entered the building and headed towards the demon's flat.

Whatever Aziraphale had in his heart, however, started to turn into something different and much worse when he reached the door and found it ajar.

"Crowley?" he tried pushing it cautiously.

He got no answer at all.

"It's me," Aziraphale said again. "May I come in?" Good manners came naturally to him, but the angel knew by instinct that the flat was empty, he didn't even need his sixth sense to tell him it was not a good sign.

He walked inside, then headed for the bedroom hoping that Crowley was simply sleeping under the covers and hadn't heard him.

When he found the bed untouched and Crowley's clothes scattered on it together with a towel, the angel looked around with wide eyes, as if he could get some clue from the room's minimal furniture, and the uneasiness turned into fear. He called Crowley on the phone once again, just in case, then went back to the living room and finally noticed that Crowley's phone was there, indeed, but reduced to pieces on the floor, next to a wooden rolling pin. He took it, wondering what Crowley could possible do with such a thing, but any mundane thought got swept away when he noticed a small, dark spot on the wooden surface. 

It was blood.

It was fortunate that Aziraphale's vessel didn't function like a normal human body because his heart missed a beat or ten. What had happened there? What had happened while he'd been too busy being proud and stubborn? He'd talked to Crowley just a few hours before, whatever had occurred there, the angel had just missed it.

If only he'd decided to go there first. If only he hadn't pushed Crowley to leave the night before. If only they hadn't argued at all.

Not even an angel could go back in time and change the past, though, and Aziraphale had never felt so useless before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title track ;) --> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4V3Mo61fJM


	5. Lost

Alone in the gray, windowless room that was his prison, Crowley was left with not much to do other than contemplate the drops falling from a leak on the ceiling, forming a small water puddle on the rough, concrete ground. The monotonous plink-plink of the droplets hitting the floor could easily become an obsession, but Crowley paid no attention to it because his thoughts were all on Aziraphale. Thinking about him gave the demon strength, but at the same time was terrifying.

The last time they'd spoken on the phone Crowley had been purposefully cold and distant and now, not knowing if he'd ever talk to the angel again made him feel more guilty than ever. Had Aziraphale already noticed his absence? Was he looking for him? 

The cell was very cold, to the point that Crowley hardly felt his feet anymore and couldn't stop shivering, besides without his clothes he felt vulnerable. Since walking up and down the room didn't help neither in warming his body, nor in giving him some brilliant idea, he spent most of the time sitting in a corner with his arms wrapped around his knees. He'd spread his wings and closed them around himself, at some point, in the illusion of keeping some body warmth. 

It didn't work and it wasn't what worried him anyway. 

Nobody came for a very long time, not even to torment him. The silence, the solitude, the forced immobility were slowly sinking their evil claws into his brain and what at first had been anger and fear was now turning into anguish. What Crowley really feared was to see the heavy iron door open, and the Sins bringing him Aziraphale or the news of his death. 

Maybe they'd already tried to hurt him, maybe they were hurting him right at that moment. If Heaven had taken Aziraphale it was certain that they'd never see each other again, and the thought alone made him want to die, but to see the angel end up down there because of him, perhaps even trying to save him, was even worse.

His fears were already devouring him to the point Crowley almost wished they'd tortured him physically, so at least he hadn't had to think.

One day, while he sat with his head hidden in his arms, he felt like he was being watched. It was a rather annoying sensation, so he lifted his face and unfolded his wings and saw a tall, blonde woman standing in front of him. She wore a strapless dress the colour of the night, and just like him she was barefoot, but she seemed completely at ease, as if immune to the cold. The door was obviously locked but Crowley hadn't heard her open or close it.

"Sloth," he said without needing to ask her who she was. 

The woman nodded almost imperceptibly, then she just looked at him as if Crowley were some kind of weird specimen. Quite uncomfortable under her scrutiny, the demon spoke again "why are you even here if you didn't bring an incandescent whip or a spiked mace?"

"Do you think this is why you're here?"

"If it's a family reunion I didn't notice"

“It's not”

"So I thought"

"But it could become something less unpleasant"

"Of course"

“This is where you belong, you are home here."

Crowley's answer was a short, sarcastic laugh.

"You'll change your mind, eventually" she said unfazed.

"Yeah, eventually."

The Sin barely shrugged, then crouched down on one knee in front of the demon, too close, and said in a low, monotonous voice, "you know it's better for him, too, right?"

Crowley tightened his lips and shook his head, but the gesture came out much less convinced than he'd have liked.

"I know you think you love him,” Sloth went on. “But I'm not convinced that you love him enough."

"You... you have no idea" Crowley answered, disgusted at her insinuation.

"Love is sacrifice, suffering, renunciation. It hurts those who give it and those who receive it. It can become obsession and selfishness, but you already know that, don't you?”

Crowley felt the cold grip of fear grabbing his stomach. Had she aimed blindly or did she knew something? As much as he wanted nothing more than to silence her, Crowley didn't know what to say, because just like Wrath, Sloth was telling the truth. Many times over the centuries he'd witnessed the darkest side of love, and even experienced some of it on his own skin. He'd suffered, yes, and for Aziraphale it'd been worth it, always, but the pain had been almost too much, sometimes. Even the last few hours before being captured had been pure agony, both for him and for the angel. All Crowley could do was look at the Sin with all the hostility he was capable of, while trying, and failing, to hide the trembling of his hands. His meager revenge lasted only a few seconds, though, until Sloth got up and quietly as she'd entered, went out. 

Crowley tried to ran after her in a futile escape attempt, but she moved too fast for his legs, by now unaccustomed to movement. This time he couldn't help himself and punched the closed door so hard his knuckles bled. 

Sloth's words had struck him deeply.

,,,,,,,,,,,

On another plan of existence, Aziraphale too felt alone as he had never felt in his long, lonely life. 

Once, he'd had Heaven on his side. Although he'd always been like a fish out of water, and his colleagues had always treated him as a lesser being, at least he'd been part of something. Aziraphale would never have imagined that he could miss a place like Heaven, but right now, to have some sort of dysfunctional family somewhere would've given him at least a bit of comfort. Not that Heaven would've helped him anyway, not to save a demon. 

He couldn't even ask his human friends for help, they had already risked too much the last time, they deserved to be left in peace, to live their brief, precarious life without having to deal with scary, dangerous things.

Aziraphale, anyway, refused to give up, he owed this to Crowley at least. All he had was Brentwood, where the fake students claimed to come from, and the record store. He started with the store, which was like getting punched in the gut, because even looking at the windows Aziraphale could tell why Crowley had liked it so much. Just being there made him miss the demon more than he already did, even if that was the place where Crowley kissed somebody else.

There was nobody at all there, though, and the shop was closed. Aziraphale tried to gather some information from the neighbours, who told him that the old owners were at home, sick, but at least alive. They hadn't ended up badly because of some Hell's evil plot, which was a small relief; the angel even planned to find a way to so and visit them and see if he could make them feel better. Crowley would've appreciated it for sure, but first Aziraphale had to go to the old antiquarian's house.

He highly doubted that he'd find someone willing to give him even the slightest hint, but it was still better than staying at home sitting on his hands. 

Once he arrived, Aziraphale had the first disconcerting revelation. What had once been a magnificent mansion with wooden floors, ancient carpets and large brass chandeliers, was now nothing more than the ruin of a house abandoned who knew how many years ago. It'd all been an illusion, from beginning to end, a demonic miracle and he'd been so stupid to fall for it. He walked around the ruins of the house, frustrated at himself and uncertain, unable to find the resolve to go back to London emptyhanded, when a voice spoke taking him by surprise.

"We knew you'd come here sooner or later. We were waiting for you."

Aziraphale winced as if he had been shot, then turned slowly toward a voice he remembered too well.

"You!" He said forcefully, with his fists clenched, barely able to keep his own anger at bay. 

"Aren't you happy to see us again? We missed you, you know. Finally we can introduce ourselves properly, I'm Greed, he's Envy."

"I know who you are," said the angel. "You like to play seven against one. Very sporty."

"Well, it's just the two of us right now," Envy shrugged, not at all impressed by Aziraphale's accusation. Rather than frighten him, the angel amused him. "Actually we're three with you."

"The perfect number, or so they say" Greed offered, then stepped forward with an expression on his face that Aziraphale didn't like at all. "Three make a party."

"Yes, a party," Envy echoed with a suggestive smile.

"What... what do you mean?" Aziraphale couldn't help backing away.

"That we are here specifically for you, little angel. We waited and waited..."

"And I'm here for Crowley! I demand to know where he is.” Despite his harsh tone the angel receded a step further as the other two approached slowly.

"He's in good company too, don't worry."

This time Aziraphale's shoulders hit the solid, cold stone wall, and he couldn't back away anymore.

The two Sins smiled in unison, then Greed dared to take the angel's hand, looking at him straight in the eyes with an intensity that was scary, but at the same time had a strange effect on Aziraphale. 

"Don't worry, we don't want to hurt you" said the Sin.

Envy took the angel's other hand, and spoke in a voice that was too smooth and not believable at all "come with us, if you are very good we can take you to your friend."

For a few moments Aziraphale almost couldn't move, he just stood there, shifting his uncertain gaze from one Sin to the other. There was something sick about them and the touch of their icy skin was repellent, yet he couldn't make himself push them away. It was a sinister fascination, more similar to a spell than to a real sensation, and besides the prospect to see Crowley was incredibly tempting. 

The Sins words were like a drug that clouded Aziraphale's brain, but then, in the very depths of his soul, an alarm bell sounded loud and clear. He didn't have to listen to them. They were evil incarnated, demons of the worst kind and temptation was literally their job. Despite the confusion clouding his judgement, Aziraphale knew that if he wanted to survive and if he wanted to help Crowley, the most sensible thing to do was to do the exact opposite of what they suggested.

It took a considerable amount of will and concentration just to say a single, tiny word. "No," he muttered, then louder and more forcefully, he repeated, "No!" Finally Aziraphale pushed them away, not too gently, and once free from the prison of their bodies, took advantage of their surprise and hurried away without looking back.

All Greed could manage for the first few seconds was staring open mouthed at the angel's retreating back, before punching the already dilapidated wall. "Damn you!" He yelled, "you stupid, self righteous angel, who the hell do you think you are?"

Aziraphale paid no attention to him and went on his way, neither did Envy, who was in no mood to endure his brother's complaints, not when his prey had been so close at hand. 

To kidnap an angel was forbidden, neither they could torture or kill him and it was a shame, but they could at least corrupt and ruin him forever, and they'd come very close, for the second time. They had seen the doubt in the angel's eyes, the hesitation, the exact, albeit brief moment when Aziraphale had almost given up, but in the end they'd failed again. It was incredibly irritating.

"Let's go" Envy said through clenched teeth. His brother followed him but kept on cursing against everyone and everything. 

Once safely on the bus to London, Aziraphale had some time to think about the incident. Envy and Greed were really dangerous, not because they were particularly strong or violent, although surely if they'd had the chance, they'd have become brutal, but because evidently they had the power to obfuscate other people's mind.

Now many things made more sense, including the kiss that Lust had snatched from Crowley. No wonder his demon had to work harder to escape the curse of a creature who was carnal desire incarnated. He was a true fighter and now Aziraphale felt proud of him for the strength he'd been able to demonstrate once again, but he couldn't tell him, and this only added to his anguish and fear.

What if he never get to apologize to Crowley? What if they never get to make peace? He hoped with all his heart that Crowley had heard the most important parts of his last phone call before they took him away. Aziraphale even dared to hope that this would help the demon to keep on fighting for them both, wherever he was. 

,,,,,,,,,,

After days spent in a nerve-wrecking silence and in total loneliness, Crowley had managed to doze off despite the cold. Everything around him seemed to be made of ice, the floor, the walls, the air and even his own skin, but he was completely exhausted mentally, so unconsciousness eventually came as a gift.

He could rest just for a short time, though, before a violent kick in his stomach brought him back to his painful reality.

He immediately recognized the twins who had deceived Aziraphale and who now towered over him, even though he couldn't tell which of them had kicked him. It didn't matter, however, they both looked at him with such an hostility that made them completely different from the young men Crowley remembered. They no longer had anything human, in their eyes there was now only wickedness and hatred.

"We met that angel of yours," Envy said as if the very sound of the word 'angel' disgusted him.

Crowley immediately gave him his utmost attention by sitting up despite the pain. "What did you do, you bastards?"

Envy hit him again in the same spot, "who gave you permission to speak!"

Crowley growled in pain but still managed to mumble a "fuck you" of which he was quite satisfied, especially considering he was coughing up blood.

The third kick was the most violent. The moment when Crowley's ribs broke a pain so intense it clouded his vision erupted, and he had to fight to stay conscious. He couldn't afford to miss his first chance to find out what had happened to Azirapahle.

This time it was Greed to talk. "We invited him here, to see you.” He said at the top of his disdain. “You know what he said?” He asked kneeling down and grabbing the demon by his hair. “He said no, he abandoned you.”

All Crowley could do was shaking his head faintly. He didn't want to believe those words, he shouldn't, yet every now and then his old fears still spoke to him, and after all Aziraphale wasn't there, was he? 

“You lost your home, your family and the little dignity you had for someone who turned his back on you at the first chance. I must admit it takes some talent to mess up so badly."

That said, Greed released his grip on Crowley's hair and stood up again.

Crowley was on his knees by now, crumpled on himself in disbelief, trying to swallow the pain. They were nothing but liars. He hadn't lost anything, Aziraphale was his home and his family, and the angel wouldn't abandon him, even if he was still mad at him.

Not following those two down there had been the right choice, it only proved how smart his angel was.

"You deserve it, anyway," Envy added. "And now you'll rot here alone forever."

"Oh no, not alone," said a female voice. Envy and Greed turned, startled, and even Crowley lifted his head. 

Smiling as usual, in her pink dress, Gluttony stood at the door. If he'd had enough air in his lungs Crowley would've scoffed. He didn't feel the need for a third torturer and Gluttony's fake innocence was quite irritating. She also had a big cat in her arms, with a shaggy black fur and only one eye, which given the context was slightly disturbing too.

"See? I brought you some company," she said getting closer.

Right now Crowley couldn't care less about company, and any act of kindness coming from the Sins was 100% sure to become a new instrument of torture, sooner or later.

"Gluttony..." Greed began in an unfriendly tone.

The girl stepped forward stroking the cat who looked decidedly annoyed. "What? You don't like it?" She said to Crowley, ignoring her brother. "If you don't want it, I'll eat it."

"No!" The demon gasped raising a hand. Whether or not he wanted company, he was not mentally ready to witness such a scene.

"Aww, I knew you were just being shy, but it's not necessary, you are among friends, here."

Greed turned a perfectly disgusted look on Crowley, which the demon intercepted and returned. "You're crazy," Envy commented in turn, and for that one, single time, Crowley agreed. 

Gluttony shrugged, then let the cat go; unable to get out of the door, that had obviously already been barred, he ran to the farthest corner of the room where he stopped, looking around himself, completely nonplussed. 

"I'm sure you'll have fun together," Gluttony stated satisfied, then turned to leave. "Guys, aren't you coming?"

Reluctantly, Envy and Greed followed her, they'd vented their frustration enough, at least for the day.

Once they were gone Crowley managed to sit with a lot of effort with his back leaning on the wall. Envy hit hard, considering he'd the body of someone who had just finished dealing with adolescence. When he finally found a slightly less uncomfortable position, the demon engaged in a long staring contest with the cat that seemed more than ready to take off the hand of anyone who was brave enough to approach him.

Crowley didn't even have the strength to lift a finger, but in any case he had no intention to get close to the cat. At best the poor thing would've been left to starve in front of his eyes, and the instant Crowley gave even the slightest sign of being fond of him, the Sins would have made the unlucky cat suffer just to punish him.

Ignoring his new room mate however, wasn't difficult. He sat silently in his corner and soon Crowley's thoughts drifted to the angel again. That dim-lit cell threw a thick fog on his thoughts, amplifying his fears. Rationally, he knew that he needed to have faith in Aziraphale and in his love, besides that last phone call had been, well, quite encouraging. Nevertheless, deep inside the demon was still afraid. After all Crowley had done nothing but give Aziraphale problems, lately. 

In the end he was left not only with fear and despair, but also with a good deal of guilt for not being able to trust Aziraphale as he should have. Blind faith had never been Crowley's forte anyway, and there was nothing he could do about it.

In the following days, at too irregular intervals to be predictable, the Sins went to visit the prisoners. Every time they invented new nasty things to tell Crowley, or some good reason to give him new bruises. Whenever they entered the cell the cat, who at least was more or less ignored, ran to hide behind his black wings because he apparently could feel the evil nature of the Sins, while he found Corwley's one more reassuring. When they left, he still went back to his corner and Crowley appreciated it.

He could shield the cat, but other than that he didn't want to interact with him. There was some water in the small puddle formed by the leak still dripping from the ceiling, but no food at all and soon Crowley would've been left contemplating the uninspiring show of the cat's dead body's decomposition. As a demon he wasn't unfamiliar with that sort of things, but that didn't mean he should like them.

Those predictions soon proved to be correct. For a long, agonizing period, the cat meowed, cold and hungry and desperate. Sometimes Crowley had to cover his ears because listening to his cry was too much, but eventually the cat became too weak even for that, he curled up in his corner and moved less and less. 

Crowley got into the habit of sitting next to him to shield him with his wings now that the cat could no longer move. Not that they'd received many visits lately. 

From time to time the demon would get up, walk around the room to stretch his legs a little, but that too was starting to get difficult. The cold bound his joints and stiffened his muscles, making his bruises even more painful. He would've killed to know how long he had been down there.

Perhaps he was going to end like the cat, only much more slowly. His agony would've been infinitely longer, that was the whole point of his captivity, after all. He wouldn't have died of hunger, or of cold, but with time his mind would fade away, he could already see the first symptoms. He still wanted to fight, for Aziraphale, because the angel would've wanted him to, even if he didn't love him anymore, of this at least Crowley was sure, but his innate optimism was starting to slowly falter. 

"Are you still hoping to run away?" Pride asked one day, on one of his very rare visits.

He had accompanied Gluttony who went straight to force-feed the cat, now too weak to eat by himself. She wanted to keep him alive only to torture them both a little longer, Crowley had even tried to stop her, but the only reward for his efforts had been a trickle of blood running down his chin, after being backhanded quite hard by Pride.

Crowley didn't deign to answer his question, anyway, but he gave him a glare that came out particularly eloquent, even if he was sitting on the ground with a split lip.

Pride snorted dismissively. "Don't you know there's nothing waiting for you out there? No one. Not anymore.”

Crowley gritted his teeth but kept quiet.

"Ask for forgiveness, you may even go back to being one of us."

It wouldn't have happened even if he'd crawled at Satan's feet, this was one of the few certainties Crowley still had. 

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

"Why not? You think the angel will wait for you? I bet he already found someone else, someone more suitable. You were beneath him anyway."

Again, Crowley said nothing, but he lowered his gaze. He didn't like the idea of Aziraphale alone, for years or centuries or the whole eternity, and he could easily do better than a low class demon like himself, but at the same time to think about him with somebody else made Crowley feel as if he'd swallowed a brick. 

"If you ask for forgiveness you could leave here, in time. You'd be free, you'd be a demon again and not that pathetic, useless hybrid you have become."

At that Crowley had to laugh. It was a hysterical laugh that chilled his own bones and frightened him. Maybe he was really losing his mind.

"Why are you laughing, you idiot?" Pride wasn't the kind of guy to take it very well when people laughed at him, in fact his tone had already become much less accommodating.

"Oh, nothing, don't worry,” Crowley said still snickering. “But let me tell you something. I know your game, asking for forgiveness would only serve to humiliate me further and I really don't feel like it. Surely you can understand me, right, _Pride_?"

Being compared, even remotely, to a lowly class traitor demon was nothing more than an insult to Pride. He crouched in front of Crowley and roughly grabbed his jaw. "You have no idea what pride is, otherwise you wouldn't have ended like you did. Don't challenge us, don't disobey, make us angry enough and it'll fall on the angel."

All the strength Crowley believed he'd lost came back to him, together with a rage that was like lava running through his veins. They could do anything to him, they could tell him everything, because knowing that Aziraphale was fine made him capable of enduring it all, and maybe, just like they kept on telling him, in the end the angel would even be better off without him. The only thing Crowley couldn't tolerate was the thought of those filthy creatures next to such a pure creature as Aziraphale.

The position they were in was so perfect that one could easily think that Pride had been asking for it, and who was Crowley to deny something to someone like him? He jerked his head free, then headbutted Pride so suddenly and so strongly, that he ended up on his ass with a bloody nose. 

It was a glorious moment, and Crowley smiled triumphantly even though he knew that he would've to pay dearly for his act of rebellion.

The payback, of course, was extremely violent. Pride stopped only when Crowley came to an inch from discorporation. During all of it Gluttony ignored them both, and left with her brother when he decided he'd had enough.

Finally Crowley was left alone once more, on the floor, curled up on his side and bleeding from his mouth and ear. On the verge of losing consciousness, he saw the cat staring at him with his yellow eye opened again, it was almost as if he was winking at him. 

It looked like he was going to survive for a while longer, in spite of everything Crowley couldn't consider it a bad thing, even if he'd wished the poor cat a quick and painless end. He managed to give him the shadow of a smile, even though his split lip hurt, then finally Crowley closed his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm late, Christmas time is crazy over here and I actually don't know what will be of me in the next few days ^^' I'll still try to update within a reasonable time.
> 
> Title Track --> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B_wzBJE0rOk


	6. Don't help them to bury the light

As the days went by, and despite being free as a bird, Aziraphale started to feel a strange sense of claustrophobia. He was trapped in a limbo of forced immobility, desperately wishing to fight, but with nothing and nobody to actually fight. Heaven too, was eerly silent and kept its distance.

Normality, for once, was the most annoying and worrying thing, to the point that even the idea of an aggression seemed to Aziraphale preferable to the stillness of those uneventful days. 

His dark desires were fulfilled on a rainy afternoon, when he returned to his shop and found the lock forced without any attempt at secrecy. It was clearly a hint, left for him by his uninvited visitors. Inside the shop, in fact, there was a woman in red sitting in his favourite armchair with an annoyed frown on her face. There was also a blond man who looked impressively like Aziraphale himself, despite the fact that the angel would never seat sprawled on the couch like the guy was doing.

Aziraphale sighed. Two against one was a bad start, but he couldn't really expect a fair fight, it wasn't Hell's style or even Heaven's, for that matter. Anyway it was at least something, so the angel felt oddly relieved.

It wasn't difficult at all to do the math, the one who looked like him had to be Lust, obviously. The mere idea of that wicked being's filthy hands on his demon was repulsive, and two second after looking at him, the angel already had to struggle to keep his cool. 

He didn't know who exactly the woman was, but he didn't have the time to ask because she spoke first. "About time, we've been waiting," she said indignantly.

Aziraphale gave her a small, sneering smile while hanging his coat neatly, "well, maybe you should've called before coming, it would've been polite, anyway."

"You know, I didn't mind waiting here," Lust shrugged with  
a mischievous smile. "This couch has some interesting stories to tell, I can feel them all." He said licking his lips.

Aziraphale blushed in spite of himself, due to embarrassment but also to anger. Perhaps it was true that the Sin could perceive something thanks to his nature, and certainly that sofa had a few tales to tell, but those stories belonged only to Aziraphale and Crowley. 

"To what do I owe the honour? If you're here to bring me another invitation you're wasting your time. And mine.” The angel said with clenched fists, not raising to the bait. He wanted nothing more than to see those two filthy creatures disappear forever, but first he had to at least try and get some answers.

Lust stood up and came closer with slow, deliberate strides, "we're here for a token of love."

Aziraphale swallowed, he wasn't sure he understood, but there was something profoundly evil in him. He felt the thin hair on his arms straightening up, something was about to happen.

"You're such a romantic fool, brother,” scoffed the woman getting up in turn. “Let's call it a retribution, it's more appropriate." Her perfectly impassive face was completely emotionless, but her eyes told another story. There was no kindness, there, no trace of goodness, they were the eyes of an angry beast ready to bite.

"Who are you?" The angel asked in a trivial attempt to take time.

The woman's gaze, if possible, became even more hostile, "if you hope to distract us you're even more stupid than you look."

The angel's question got an answer just the same. "She's my _sweet_ little sister, Wrath." Lust said with a mellifluous smile. "Dear sister, do you want to do the honours?"

Wrath needed nothing else, she threw herself to the angel using her own weight to push him backward, hard, against one of the shelves. She squeezed his throat with one hand to distract him, then before Aziraphale could actually realize what was going on, Wrath stabbed him with a small silver knife she'd stolen from the angel's desk. Behind her, Lust just stood grinning with his arms crossed. 

Shocked and groaning for the unexpected, piercing pain to his side, Aziraphale acted instinctively and spread its wings, "fiat lux!" he shouted, and a white light, brighter than the sun, invaded everything. He heard the Sins cry out in anger, surprise and pain, then run away frantically, and it was a relief, even if he was instead falling, dragging some of the books with himself. 

After that, Aziraphale felt nothing more.

When the angel opened his eyes again it was completely dark in the shop. He was alone, on the floor, and hurt, he had to work hard against the pain and the dizziness just to sit up, then with another small miracle he lit the lights once again, this time just the electric ones. Instinctively Aziraphale put his hand on the wound from which sharp pangs emanated with every breath he took. He sighed when he felt his own fingers getting wet; his clothes were stained with blood too, just like the floor, not that he cared much at the moment. What worried him the most was that those demons, those Sins, were crazy, ruthless and violent and Crowley was alone against seven of them and the whole Hell.

He stayed where he was for a long while, wondering what it was all about. They could have killed him or abducted him, instead they had opted for a wound which ultimately wouldn't have been life threatening even for a normal human being. 

Eventually he healed it with a miracle, and when he finally managed to get back on his feet, although his head was spinning dangerously because of the blood loss, Aziraphale noticed that the knife that was usually on his desk was gone. What the Sins were going to do with it he had no idea, but of course it couldn't be anything good. 

What Aziraphale knew, instead, was that he'd to be ready for more visits. Perhaps those demons couldn't challenge Heaven too openly, but they could certainly torment him in a thousand devious ways. 

He didn't plan to just stand by a watch, anyway, he'd never undergo the events ever again, Crowley had taught him that much. This time he had to find a way to get ahead of his enemies.

*****

Crowley was lying on his side, not asleep, not fully awake.. He was facing the wall, now, and between his own body and it, laid the cat. Exposed and cold, just like the demon who had long since given up on the illusion that his wings could keep them warm or safe. The cat too, was still alive, but his breath became more shallow with every passing day.

Much time had gone by since Gluttony had forced him to eat, and she hadn't come back since then. Perhaps, Crowley thought, she had forgotten the cat even existed, or the game no longer amused her. Lost in his own less then coherent thoughts, the demon wondered for a moment if he shouldn't just twist the poor animal's neck and at least put a quick, merciful end to his suffering.

He never got to take a decision on the matter, though, because he cound't really focus on anything anymore. As time passed by, the present became darker and the future hazy so Crowley's mind found shelter in the past more and more often. A small, remote part of him, knew it was dangerous and wrong, and the best way to go crazy and loose himself forever. He also knew that if he kept on avoiding reality he'd never see Aziraphale again, but it felt so good to dwell on his most reassuring memories. 

Aziraphale's favourite Shakespeare's sonnet and his warm voice while he red it; the taste of the oysters that for some reason Crowley had never had before Aziraphale treated him to them, about two thousand years ago; the scent of wet soil right after he watered his plants, so beautiful, green and lush. _You should treat them a little better, darling_ Aziraphale had once told him with his bright, indulgent smile. 

Aziraphale was Crowley's only constant thought, at the same time an obsession and an anchor keeping him tied to reality when his mind threatened to slip away.

Sometimes the demon could almost smell the scent of his soft, blond hair, and feel the warmth of Aziraphale's hands on his own cold skin. It felt as good as the disappointment was painful whenever he realized he'd dreamed once again. 

One day his dreams were so vivid that Aziraphale's soft caresses actually woke Crowley up from his deep slumber. When he slowly opened his golden eyes and turned on his back, the demon found himself face to face with the very object of his sweetest obsession. 

Was the angel truly there? How was it even possible? Had it all been just an awful nightmare? It was so good to see him again, anyway, that Crowley wanted to just enjoy the moment for a while longer. The angel was kneeling in the dirt, regardless of his white trousers, smiling. “Oh, my poor little demon. Did you miss me?”

"Aziraphale? You... Yes! But… how?” Crowley stammered trying to sit up, while his old fears began to come alive again. He was still in his grey, dim-lit cell and Aziraphale was impossibly beautiful, but he shouldn't be there, it was exactly what he'd feared the most.

"Angel, why are you here?"

Aziraphale's smile grew wider and his voice even more condescending. "Because of you, of course."

“It's not... Ngk... how did you do it?

"Doesn't matter now. All that matters is that we're together."

Crowley could only nod. He was exhausted, aching all over and above all, confused. The only thing he knew for sure was that Hell was not a suitable place for Aziraphale. "We have to leave," he said, trying to kickstart his brain into functioning properly again.

"Not yet," answered the other, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

“What? Why not?"

"No need to hurry, we just got together."

It didn't make sense at all, Aziraphale wasn't so reckless, usually, it felt wrong, and Crowley was starting to panic. What if the Sins came and found the angel there? What if Aziraphale was already their prisoner and didn't want to tell him? 

Finally Crowley managed at least to turn around and lean on his elbow, so that he could properly look at the angel. Aziraphale choose that moment to kiss him whit cold lips. Crowley couldn't help himself, and gave into the kiss with an undignified moan. He could feel the other smiling, then the kiss became more aggressive, and very soon it was as if the other wanted to swallow him whole. To be once again in the angel's arms after so long was such a relief, though, that Crowley chose to lie to himself just for an instant longer. He felt the heat build up inside his own belly when Aziraphale held him tight in a possessive embrace. All of his most recent bruises begged for mercy, but Crowley ignored them all. 

He'd gone whole millennia without one single gentle touch, and he'd long since talked himself into believing he didn't even wanted to be touched, but being with Aziraphale had changed his mind drastically, and now he simply craved the angel's touch.  
Anyway, as the sleep induced fog dissipated from his brain Crowley noticed that the way Aziraphale was touching, kissing and looking at him were different, predatory almost, hungry, and somehow frightening. 

There was something about that new version of the angel that was undoubtedly turning the demon on, in a way that made him feel dirty, though.

"You see, it's not that I couldn't find someone else to warm my bed," Aziraphale snickered. His sweet voice and the condescending tone fought with the sharp smile on his face, "but you're such a little slut, always ready for me. I want you, and I want you now."

Crowley shook his head, that dark version of an horny teenager was somebody he didn't know and he didn't even wanted to know. And sure as Hell he wasn't his Aziraphale.

As if perceiving his doubts, the other distracted him with another deep kiss, even hungrier than the previous one and Crowley could only surrender to it once again. 

“You like it, don't you?" The creature asked.

Crowley couldn't really deny it. "Well..."

Aziraphale smiled again, and didn't let him finish. "Then stay down," he said pushing the demon slowly but firmly to lay down on his stomach. Crowley needed a moment or two to gather his thoughts once and for all, so he let himself be guided by the cold hand to the base of his neck, but when he finally managed to clear his mind he put his hands on the ground and tried to get up, "look, I'm flattered by all this... enthusiasm" he said to take time, "but I really don't think it's the right time."

"Shhh" said the other, completely immune to Crowley's protests, then he pushed him more firmly. "I said, stay down."

"No." Yet again Crowley tried to get up, and failed. Captivity, loneliness and worry had weakened his body as much as his spirit, while the hands holding him were strong and overbearing. The other went on as if he hadn't spoken at all and with a single jerk he pulled Crowley's pants down, exposing him. 

“So pretty,” he said, as his smile turned into an evil laugh.

Scared at the prospect of what was to happen, and completely humiliated, this time Crowley tried to get free with much more conviction, but before he could achieve anything, he felt an invasive hand between his legs, touching, probing, exploring aggressively. 

Aziraphale would never even think of calling him a slut, or doing such a thing. Even when their games became more passionate, his touch was always sweet and gentle and he always made sure that Crowley was fine. Certainly, even in a million years, he wouldn't have tried to hold him down against his will.

“Stop!” The demon tried to protest. “I'll behave, you don't have to do this.”

“No, but I'm bored, and you're here for our entertainment, did you miss the memo?”

The only answer Crowley managed this time was a guttural groan. Sensing his panic, the fake angel lay down on him using his own body to hold his prey still. Since his cover was now blown anyway, the Sin grabbed Crowley's hair and forced him to rise his head. "You'll see," he said, "it'll only hurt for a moment... or ten." He also marked his words with a unequivocal push of the hips.

In that position Crowley could turn his face only slightly, but it was enough to see that Aziraphale was no longer Aziraphale, he was the blond man he'd kissed in the record store, Lust of course. Not that he needed any confirmation, at that point.

A mix of rage, fear and humiliation exploded into his heart. He'd let that filthy creature deceive him once, and he'd forever take responsibility for his own misstep, but using Aziraphale for the dirty, disgusting game the Sin was now plotting was an unforgivable mistake. Crowley placed one hand on the floor to pry and with the other arm he elbowed Lust right through the ribs with all the strength he still possessed.

Lust, who wasn't expecting such a reaction, howled in pain and rolled off of him, so Crowley took the opportunity to roll on his side and kick blindly. He hadn't had the time to aim, but he didn't miss his target. "Lust," he hissed at the top of his disdain, "I should have recognized you immediately."

"Yes, you should've,” the other snickered despite the pain, “but you're a good-for-nothing idiot." 

Crowley had never been a big fan of physical violence, he thought that using the brain was more fun, it didn't mean, however, that sometimes violence wasn't necessary, and also incredibly satisfying.

He took advantage of that short impasse to quickly rearrange his jeans and instinctively spread his big black wings. They helped him to give more strength to his momentum and in fact when he jumped Lust he hit him with such a strength that the Sin had no way to keep his balance. He ended up on his back, with Crowley straddling him, and all he could think of was to change himself back into Aziraphale. 

Crowley hesitated, with his arm raised and his fist clenched, but it was just a moment. "Thisss only pissesss me off more, you moron," he hissed, then finally hit. The first blow hurt his knuckles quite badly, but it was, for once, a nice kind of pain.

"You won't get away with this!" Growled Lust, but his bleeding lip made his words somehow less believable.

“Yeah, maybe, but it's fun!”

"You're gonna regrmmfh" Crowley didn't let him finish and struck harder, ignoring the backlash that reverberated through his arm with each blow. He wasn't used to punch people but he smiled triumphantly, because it felt good to see he could still hold his own, it felt good to not be the one bleeding, for once, and it felt good to inflict some pain after being so long on the receiving hand of it. Maybe it was his demonic nature to speak, but Crowley really couldn't care less. A demon was what he was, after all, and there was no changing that.

He hit Lust again and again, venting all the fear, frustration and despair of the previous weeks. When the other tried to fight back, and failed miserably, for the first time Crowley even dared to hope again.

"Help me, damn it!" Lust shouted at some point. Crowley was so caught up in the act he paid no attention to him, but a few seconds later he heard the heavy iron door open and close again. He sort of expected it, he'd noticed that those cowards always went around in pairs. There was somebody else right behind him, now, and a cold hand on his throat. Crowley had to stop punching Lust to grab it by the wrist and avoid being strangled. He didn't need to breath but he'd do without a crushed windpipe.

He could barely turn around without getting up from Lust's battered body, and saw that the icy hand belonged to Sloth. That woman didn't look like much, but Crowley expected the worst from her, and sadly, it was just what he got.

"Lust, you're embarrassing," she sighed.

"Go to Heaven, sister!"

"And you," Sloth said whispering into Crowley's ear, "know your place."

Before even finishing the sentence Sloth put one hand to the base of Crowley's left wing, right where the bone met the shoulder, and the other a few inches further. Crowley immediately understood her intention, and it was as if somebody had ripped the ground right out from under his feet. He tried to get up, to get away, but it was too late. A loud snap resounded across the room as Sloth twisted her hands and pulled.

Crowley could only scream. He screamed and screamed again in complete agony and pure desperation and he couldn't do anything to prevent it. He didn't even really noticed when Lust slipped away from him.

All Crowley could do, then, was curl up on himself, bent on his knees, with his forehead almost touching the rough concrete floor and the other wing pathetically closed around himself in the futile attempt to shield himself from further pain.

Any strength he still possessed he used it to stop the tears, while biting his own lip bloody, even though the pain was excruciating. He felt so stupid, now, for having thought even for a brief moment that he could fight back and win. For a long while all he was aware of was the pain, but then he realized that something was going on around him and dared to rise his eyes again. 

He saw then that while Lust had apparently left, the other Sins were there, probably attracted by his own screams. They were looking down on him, cynically amused by his broken wing. He wanted to talk, to say something, anything, to curse those bastards more than they already were, and to swear that they'd never defeat him, even if those were only empty words, but he couldn't find his voice.

The first to come forward was Wrath, Crowley braced himself for more pain, but she only threw a thin metal object at him. It resounded with a small metallic clang when it hit the ground.

“I was keeping this for later,” she said, “but you look like you could use a small souvenir from home, right now."

Crowley didn't dare to move but rested his eyes on the black-stained silver knife. In his face Wrath saw that he had, indeed recognized it.

“What... what does it mean?” Crowley managed.

"Tsk, you're really dumb," Greed scoffed.

"Consider it a warning if you like," Wrath explained with malevolent satisfaction. "Whenever you misbehave we'll bring you a piece of your angel." She added, in that moment she looked happier than Crowley had ever seen her.

"I... I don't believe you!"

"You seem a bit confused, poor dear, maybe I can help," Gluttony offered stepping forward. She picked up the knife, smelled it as if it was some delicious food, then licked it greedily. "Oh, yes, it's him, it's the angel! He tastes really good, I can't wait to eat the rest!"

Her siblings, instead of looking at her as horrified as the demon was, laughed. Gluttony handed the knife back to Crowley who snatched it from her, though even that simple movement caused him a new wave of blinding pain. That was the knife that Aziraphale kept as an ornament, and he knew that those stains were indeed his blood, he could've sensed it even without Gluttony's help. So they had been at the book shop, after all, they had attacked Aziraphale, they had hurt him. All because of him.

"No" was all Crowley could say, shaking his head and swallowing his tears yet again. He couldn't afford to cry in front of his enemies, but he was terrified. “Please...” He added, even if he wasn't really sure what exactly he was begging for.

"You can always ask for forgiveness, and it'll be over. Sooner or later," Sloth reminded him with her usual monotone that became more irritating every time she opened her mouth.

"No!" Crowley repeated more forcefully, maybe he couldn't actively react, but at least he could refuse to bend. It wasn't much and it didn't count in the great scheme of things, but there was nothing else left for him.

"He's funny after all," Pride grinned as if Crowley were some kind of pet.

"Tsk, you've got such bad taste," commented Envy. Next to him Wrath gave a contempt smile, then turned on her heels and left. The others, one by one, followed her. 

For a long while Crowley didn't dare to move. He stood curled on himself, clutching Aziraphale's knife despite its sharp blade. Eventually, though, his knees couldn't stand the wight of his body anymore, and Crowley laboriously managed to go and lean against the wall, shifting his body's weight on his right shoulder. It didn't help much to ease the pain, neither helped to keep his left arm bent and close to his body, the pain was still there, excruciating and blinding, and it was now the only thing Crowley was truly conscious of. That, and the knife, a tiny piece of his house and life, of every beautiful thing he'd once possessed, and that had been snatched from him.

The dark stains of blood that Gluttony had so sumptuously cleaned came back to his mind. Not for the first time, the predictions of the Sins were proving to be true. Perhaps Crowley would really become the angel's final downfall. Perhaps Aziraphale would come to hate him, to regret fraternizing with him, maybe he'd already reached that point.

Then Crowley reminded himself that never such a thing could happen, that Aziraphale loved him, even without any good reason. He had to believe in his angel and in their love if he still hoped to survive, but Aziraphale was still in mortal danger and he'd never be safe again as long as Crowley was prisoner. 

Or alive.

The thought of any other macabre trophy they'd bring him next time hurt even more than his broken wing. He had to leave, soon, or die trying, but how could he do such a thing when even barely moving put him in such an excruciating pain he wished to die? Right now Crowley couldn't even stand on his own feet.

It occurred to him, just for a moment, to pray, but he immediately dismissed the idea. God had sent him away, rejected him, turned her back on him. She'd never, ever, listen to the prayers of an unforgivable sinner like him, not even if he prayed for one of Her angels. She didn't even listen to her mortal children, a demon would simply be ignored, or maybe even punished for daring to try.

How many times, in his long life, Crowley had seen humans praying desperately. Innocent people subjected to a cruel fate they didn't really deserve. God had never deigned to help, and Crowley could just stand by, helpless, and watch them suffer and die, those poor, poor souls.

He'd also seen them fight, and try, fall and rise again and again, and he'd loved them for this, even if he wasn't supposed to. In them, and in their example, not in an uncaring and distant God, Crowley had always found his own strength.

Thinking about them was for Crowley as if he was seeing the light again for the first time after being blinded for who knew how long. 

Perhaps that dreadful day had at least served for something; it'd been nothing short of awful, to avoid being raped just to end up crippled, basically the worst wake up call he could remember. Crowley could acknowledge his own mistakes anyway, he was good at that. He knew he'd waited too long, he'd gotten too close to give up. Now he also knew that the Sins weren't as strong as they looked. They never acted alone just because of that, in fact it hadn't actually been that hard to beat Lust into a pulp.

He stared for a long while at the cat who still laid on his side, completely oblivious and ignored by everybody as always, with his only good eye now half closed and completely unfocused. 

"Damaged goods, the both of us, huh?" It was the first time ever that Crowley spoke to him.

While absentmindedly looking at him, Crowley decided he wouldn't allow himself to end like that, whatever happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit late to wish you all merry Christmas, I guess ^^' So happy new year! I honestly hope for a spectacular 2020 for all of us <3
> 
> Title track --> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TFjmvfRvjTc


	7. Time to be alive

The more time went by, the more Aziraphale did his best to avoid staying at home, in fact he was now in a love and hate relationship with the shop: the ridiculous amount of frustration was simply driving him crazy, and while his books were a huge comfort as usual, everything in there put him face to face with his own ineptitude, because what good was an angel who couldn't even take care of the ones he loved? 

The good memories had now a bittersweet taste and the bad ones were inexorably fading away, to the point that if somebody asked, Aziraphale wouldn't even be able to say why, exactly, he and Crowley had fought. 

There was one thing the angel couldn't forget, though. 

_I took care of myself just fine for six millennia, I'm not going to stop now_

That was one of the very last things Crowley had said to him, right before leaving. Back then Aziraphale had let himself be blinded by his own pain and anger, but now he could see with an outstanding clarity all the things Crowley hadn't been able to say out loud, hidden behind those harsh words. He'd been asking Aziraphale to not let him go, to not be left alone, to have at least a small sign that the angel wasn't trying to break up with him for good. 

Aziraphale, instead, had made all of Crowley's fears come true. As an angel, he'd never felt so useless before, but if there was one way in the world to atone, it was to not give up on Crowley. He needed to tell him how sorry he was, and in order to do so, of course, he'd to find him.

Restless, despite being recently stabbed, that night too, as many nights before, the angel went out with the sole purpose of wandering the dark streets of London. 

The latent pain of the wound was an almost welcome company. He could've healed it properly and completely, but he'd felt the need for something to keep himself grounded, preventing his mind from sinking into a chasm of guilt, as deep as it was useless.

Tired and depressed, when he came across a church, the angel decided to enter hoping to find there at least some solace. It was closed, but that at least wasn't a problem that couldn't be solved with a simple snap. It was also something he wouldn't feel guilty about, he hadn't caused any damage and a church, in any case, was a shelter for anyone in need of help. 

He walked along the nave listening to the echo of his own steps, eerily loud in the depth of the night, with his blue eyes fixed on the Cross. He'd never forgotten that day, and that poor man, so full of love and forgiveness. It wasn't a simple angel's place to judge the work of God, of course, and in fact Aziraphale never did it, but inevitably whenever he happened to think about Jesus his heart shrinked.

He knelt on the cold floor in front of the altar and prayed with all his might for a sign, because he needed to know that he wasn't as alone as he felt. He also dared to pray for the salvation of a demon, of somebody whom the kingdom of Heaven had repudiated, had judged lost, wrong, unforgivable, but hadn't Jesus died just to teach them all that every single one of Her creatures deserved to be loved? 

Warm tears ran silently down the angel's cheeks, but nothing happened, meanwhile his knees hurt and his hope began to waver. Eventually he stood up, ashamed of his own disappointment. It wasn't fair and he knew it, faith was precisely that, trusting God even when there weren't apparent reasons to do so. 

Finally he left with a last loving look to the man on the Cross, telling himself again and again that God wouldn't abandon him, She never did. He may no longer be the angel he used to be, but Aziraphale refused to lose his faith. With only that thought to give him the strength to put one foot behind the other, he headed back home.

He went inside with a sigh, trying to get ready for a new dawn without Crowley, but the moment he closed the door an idea came to his mind, quick as a flash of light and so sudden it left him almost stunned for a few long moments, staring at nothing in particular with his eyes wide open. 

“You idiot!” He told himself for not having thought of it before, while at the same time a small, faint spark of hope took life and almost made him smile for the first time since who knew how long.

Aziraphale couldn't really tell if that was an answer to his prayers, but the timing was certainly odd. On the other hand it was weird to think that the idea of blackmail had come to him inspired by God, because a blackmail was exactly what he was thinking about. 

"Thank you!" He said just in case, and for a moment he felt such a relief that even the task he had now to complete seemed easy.

As it turned out, talking to Gabriel was quite difficult, not that it came as a surprise, things just refused to go smoothly whenever the archangels were involved, and anyway that wasn't the worst part yet. 

Aziraphale had to try and insist, and try again for days, which was appalling to say the least because obviously Gabriel was ignoring him on purpose. When the archangel finally deigned to answer his calls, Aziraphale was so frustrated that any possible hesitation or second thought was now only a vague memory.

Gabriel appeared behind him one morning, while the angel was sorting, again, books that didn't really need to be sorted. He startled in a completely undignified manner, but he was for once relieved to finally see his former boss.

“The invincible angel still deigns to talk to me. To what do I owe such a privilege?” The archangel began with a toothy smile. 

Aziraphale, immediately recovering from the surprise, held his purple gaze easily, without returning the smile. He had no more patience or time for those games.

"I'm sure you're very busy so I'm not going to waste your time," he said dryly, then without further ado he added, "I want to know where Crowley is and how to get him back."

Gabriel looked at him with a raised eyebrow, half surprised, and only vaguely interested. Did he really know nothing or was he just a good actor? Aziraphale leaned more for the second option. Maybe Heaven wasn't directly involved, but it took an enormous stretch of the imagination to believe that up there nobody really knew what was going on.

"I don't know what you're talking about and guess what? I don't care." Gabriel replied. "Now, if there's nothing else…"

"Oh, there is much more"

“Oh looky! One could almost think that a threat is coming. Isn't it unworthy of an angel?"

"You're surely very well versed in all the things unworthy of an angel."

"Oh, Aziraphale, why'd you hurt me so?" Gabriel asked mockingly, with an hand on his heart.

_If only I could_, Arizaphale thought, and immediately regretted that thought. He didn't want to become a cold, vengeful creature, even if right now he was quite mad at the whole universe. He said, as a matter of fact, "you know where Crowley is and you have the means to help me get him back."

"I already told you, I don't know what you're talking about and I don't care where you abandon your garbage anyway."

Aziraphale gritted his teeth, it wasn't easy to keep his darkest emotion at bay. He should've known that Gabriel would've been uncooperative, at least, and yet the insult felt more intolerable than ever now that Crowley wasn't there to speak for himself. "Gabriel..." He started in a warning tone, but the other immediately interrupted him.

He either didn't like that tone, or was already tired of his own act. "No, Aziraphale," Gabriel said, and his eyes became colder than ever; even the most fake of his smiles had disappeared from his face and Aziraphale found himself hoping wholeheartedly that he hadn't made a sensational mistake. “You turned your back on everyone, you made your choice. Now you really expect me to help you save a demon? Even if I could I'd never do such a demeaning thing." 

Those things, unfortunately, were true. Aziraphale had had his very good reasons, but he'd really turned his back on his world, his team, and Gabriel would have gladly cut off his own wings rather than help him in the name of the good heart he didn't have. It was precisely for that reason that Aziraphale felt like he had no other choice than blackmailing him.

"Heaven would've gladly wiped out the universe just for a matter of principle." He said, apparently changing the subject at random.

"We're still talking about it?" Snorted the archangel. He honestly didn't understand what the failed Apocalypse had to do with the matter at hand.

Aziraphale, though, went on. “And we all know that between Heaven and Hell there is much more than a simple non-belligerence pact.”

“What is this supposed to mean?”

“It means, Gabriel, that here is a connection, between Heaven and Hell. I know it and you know it."

Gabriel pursed his lips. “That's more your department, isn't it?”

"I was there, remember? You arrived together with the Prince of Hell, of all people, and it was clear that there was a certain amount of... confidence, between the two of you.” The more Gabriel clenched his jaw, the more Aziraphale looked like a spider satisfied with a particularly well woven cobweb. 

The archangel, on the other hand, looked like someone who had just swallowed several lemons, including their basket. "I don't know where you think you're going with this, but you'd better stop."

Cornering, for once, someone like Gabriel made Aziraphale feel incredibly powerful, and if that made him a lesser angel, he didn't care. The most important thing was that despite being visibly angry, Gabriel had not denied those words, and that was definitely something to work on. “There were other witnesses too. Humans, remember?" Aziraphale added.

“So what?”

"What do you think would happen if them, all of them, learned that Heaven worked with Hell for their total destruction?"

"You're pathetic, nobody would believe it!" Gabriel laughed sarcastically, but the uncertainty in his eyes was now evident.

"Oh please, some of them still believe that their planet is flat, do you really think they wouldn't go crazy for such a story?"

"Well, I still don't see why it should worry me."

“It would be chaos. Nobody would believe in Heaven anymore, and what are gods without anyone believing in them?"

At that Gabriel appeared to be utterly horrified. “This is a brand new level of low, Aziraphale,” he protested, “We're not gods, if nothing else you should still remember this. This is blasphemy!"

The disgust in his eyes hit Aziraphale like a slap in the face. It was blasphemy, of the worst kind, and he felt dirty for even suggesting it, but he knew he couldn't give up just yet. “For them this doesn't really make any difference. To their eyes we're supernatural beings, all of us, immortal, capable of performing miracles. Oh, and would you believe it, they think that angels are good." He concluded his speech with a cold, sharp smile, flaunting a confidence he didn't really possess. Fear, actually, was now his most prominent emotion. 

He wasn't used to be so cruel, he simply lacked the experience, and he surely wasn't used to threats, unless he wasn't on the receiving hand of them.

Gabriel's love for God was total, unconditional and fierce and that was possibly his only redeeming quality and the only think they still had in common. He was also clearly furious. Aziraphale had to force himself not to back away just then. He was as close to victory as he was close to total defeat, he'd to be brave for a while longer, for Crowley. 

Gabriel on his part didn't seem willing to give in so soon either. “It'll take you months, if not years. In the meantime that filthy demon will get just what he deserves."

“You're not very up to date, I see, on human inventions. There is a truly prodigious thing called the internet, these days. It'll barely take me a few hours."

"Then I should just hurry up and _neutralize_ some of your precious witnesses, don't you think?" Gabriel said, and Aziraphale could immediately tell he wasn't joking.

“Killing humans for no other reason than to cover your misdeeds? You may try, but what if you should fall?"

"What misdeeds?"

"Fraternizing with the enemy, as far as I know, is a death penalty crime."

At that point the anger in the archangel's eyes was so evident that Aziraphale, despite being positively scared, took an almost physical pleasure from it, it was unbecoming of an angel but he'd have plenty of time, later, to feel guilty about it, besides, ruffling Gabriel's feathers wasn't by far his worst sin. 

He deserved it, anyway, Gabriel was far more ruthless than Aziraphale could ever hope to be, also, if no divine retribution had come yet, maybe, just maybe he was doing the right thing. 

In any case, Aziraphale decided to slow down a bit. If one suspended moral judgements for a while, to corner Gabriel was quite fun, yet it could still very easily lead to a disaster and he'd no intention of completing his threats anyway. He'd never do such a thing to Heaven, despite everything, and he certainly wouldn't do it to God.

"Please, Gabriel," he said then, trying to take on a slightly gentler tone. "We just wanted some peace, we weren't bothering anybody, you have to give me that, at least."

Gabriel stared at him silently, for a long time, with his jaw clenched and a disgusted expression in his eyes, as if Aziraphale were the most disgusting insect ever, and from his point of view, at that moment, the angel was even worse.

"You just threatened to lead a revolution against Heaven, this is what you call living in peace?"

Aziraphale had the decency to blush, "well, to be fair we were attacked, without any provocation on our part..."

"And if I don't help you, you'll ruin all of us."

"Well, I... Yes, Gabriel, I'm afraid that I will.” The angel lied.

Paradoxically, for the first time ever, Gabriel looked at him with a deep, absolutely not angelic, hatred, but also with something that vaguely resembled respect. “The day will come, Aziraphale. In a year, a century or a millennium, the day will come when you'll pay for this."

"I know." Aziraphale nodded once, firmly. He expected nothing less, and besides he already was on the archangel's black list. That was exactly why, as far as Heaven was concerned, he felt like he'd really nothing left to lose. 

Without adding anything else Gabriel finally left and Aziraphale was so relieved he could have fainted. No divine lightning from the sky, yet, and Gabriel would never have openly admitted to be willing to help, but surely, if he'd decided not to do so, he'd have had a great time rubbing Aziraphale's face in it. Instead he'd gone in peace, by his standards, with nothing more than a vague threat and a predictable foul glare. 

Aziraphale now just had to wait and hope that the archangel really had on Hell the hold he seemed to have. In the meantime, his plan for the immediate future was to have a panic attack and maybe get drunk. 

******

Since he now had a weapon, or at least a tool that could pass for one, Crowley felt slightly better. Not stronger, because he was still coherent enough to know that a few inches of silver and a dull blade wouldn't really make a difference, but that small fragment of his old life gave him a hope he thought he'd lost. He wanted to go home more than ever and he'd recently found out he also wanted to take the cat with him, if only to spite the Sins. It was common courtesy among cell mates, anyway, wasn't it? Then once free, they'd finally part ways. 

He hadn't grown fond of the cat at all, and he seriously doubted that the cat, in turn, would still want to be around him after such an ordeal, but everything would've been much simpler if the poor animal had been able to look after himself or at least walk. There was no hope at all of getting some food for him, though, even if Crowley begged, implored or offered his black soul in return.

There was only one thing left to do then, however unorthodox it might be. 

The pain of his broken wing limited his movements quite a lot, but Crowley still managed to get closer to the cat, then he cut his own fingertip and placed it in front of the cat's face. For a long time nothing at all happened, until eventually the little black nose smelled the blood and the cat weakly started to lick the crimson droplets.

When it looked like he'd recovered at least a bit, Crowley took him to the small pool of water below the leak of the ceiling and patiently waited for him to drink. He then gave him more blood, which the cat now licked with much more enthusiasm. Crowley didn't know if it was normal or if it was somehow thanks to his demonic blood, but at the end of that gruesome meal, instead of lying on his side again, the cat sat with his tail curled around his paws, and an hypnotic gaze in his only eye.

Since the first of his many, many problems had been fixed, Crowley had to take care of the others. He sat cross legged in front of the cat, with his elbows resting on his legs, already exhausted, which was what currently worried him the most. Where could he hope to go, if he was barely capable to stand? 

He sat just like that for a while, absorbed in his own not too optimistic thoughts, then he finally spoke.

"We have some work to do, you know this." The cat just stared at him. “I've my angel to return to and you have your bins, I guess. So you better do your part because I don't intend to be your cat sitter the whole time."

Another impenetrable look was all the answer Crowley got.

"And if you slow me down or get in my way I'll leave you here without a second thought."

The cat stared stoically.

"Anyway, once out of here each for himself, is it clear?"

The cat licked his lips and yawned.

"Right. As I thought," Crowley concluded relatively satisfied.

After settling that matter, the demon had to focus on regaining confidence with the concept of movement itself. He'd to get used to ignore the excruciating pain caused by his broken wing, which he hadn't been able to fix, despite trying so many times. There was something in that cell preventing him from using his demonic miracles, and despite being quite mortifying, that actually scared him. 

It was do or die, he knew it, there was no other way, for Aziraphale's sake, but for his own too. The thought of what Lust had come very close to do had never really left his mind, and the other Sins weren't any better. Sloth had already given an excellent proof of that.  
To think of what else they could do to him while he was so helpless was at least motivation enough to keep on trying despite the pain.

He spent some time walking up and down the cell, searching for a new balance for his body. For some time no one came, so he could act undisturbed and feed the cat with his own blood in the meantime. It was Gluttony, eventually, the first to visit him, followed by the imperturbable Sloth. Upon seeing her Crowley felt both anger and fear, she was the cause of his recent agony, she was dangerous, but she may also become the first one to pay, and that was also quite thrilling. 

They both looked at him as if they weren't expecting to find him standing on his own feet, which actually surprised Crowley himself too, to some extent. Then Gluttony shifted an even more surprised gaze to the cat, who was visibly much healthier than expected. "Hey, what happened here, he looks... good." She said, looking at Crowley suspiciously.

He shrugged, then sat on the ground so as not to make the Sins even more suspicious.

"It's not that I'm complaining I don't eat dead things" Gluttony added without waiting for an answer, then she laughed. "Well, actually I eat dead things a lot, but you know, flesh tastes much better when it's not rotten."

Crowley wisely choose to not comment on that; he couldn't, not with Sloth's cold glare fixed on him, as if daring him to give her an excuse to punish him again. She seemed almost hopeful, and Crowley hoped she could feel his hatred.

Gluttony wasn't really expecting an answer anyway, instead she approached the cat who, with a sudden jerk, hissed at her and ran to hide behind Crowley, even if the demon was now careful not to spread his wings.

When Gluttony came up with a threatening smile, Crowley could no longer keep silent, "hey, come on, leave him alone."

"You grew fond of him, how typical," said Sloth and in her flat tone Crowley recognized a considerable amount of disgust. There were so many things he'd have liked to say at that, but he didn't dare, so he opted for the most diplomatic answer he could find.

"It's not like that, it's that... well, it's just that the world is full of excellent restaurants, there's no need to eat cats.”

The moment the words left his mouth Crowley felt the cold claw of fear gripping his stomach. Why was he risking so much for a stupid stray cat?

Solth's words, right before she crippled him with her bare hands, resonated into his mind. _Know your place_, and after that Crowley's world had become pure agony. Maybe, he told himself, he shouldn't have talked at all, but he'd never really learned how to NOT speak his mind.

“What are you talking about? You're a snake!” Gluttony frowned, but at least she didn't seem offended.

At that some of the tension left Crowley's body. "Well, I don't eat cats anyway. I don't even like food."

"Liar, you always ate with that stupid angel of yours, we saw you."

The memory of the time spent with Aziraphale, of the way the Angel was delighted by human food, of how nice it was to just watch him eat, hit Crowley like a stab in the heart. He lowered his gaze and couldn't say anything, so Gluttony went on. "Don't worry, he'll still go, just with someone else, someone less unworthy, less dirty. Maybe somebody of his side."

To that Crowley reacted in a way that was totally unexpected, even for himself. He snickered, chuckled and then burst out laughing openly, even though it was the most bitter laughter ever. The idea that Aziraphale could sooner or later replace him hurt really badly, but if his escape attempt failed he didn't want the angel forever alone. However, imagining him touring London's restaurants with Gabriel, Michael or any of those assholes of his former bosses was simply hilarious. 

Even without knowing what was going on in Crowley's mind, Gluttony decided that she didn't like being laughed at. Her gaze turned dark as Crowley had never seen it.

"Now move, I want that cat," she ordered.

“Again with the cat? I already told you..."

“I don’t care!" She shouted impatiently. “Give me that cat or I'll devour your Angel!"

Whether she was capable of it or not, the very idea made Crowley see red. He had to force himself not to answer back as he'd have loved to, as he struggled to stand, with one hand on one knee and the other one on the wall, apparently to move as ordered. Sloth, however, guessed something because while remaining imperturbable as always, she took a step forward. Crowley froze, yet at the same time a shiver of perverse excitement ran through his body. The time had finally come, and he realized he'd sort of missed being the demon he was supposed to be. 

He tapped his foot on the ground, then. "Run," he said. Nothing at all happened, and the two Sins looked at him perplexed. Crowley sighed, repeated the gesture and said again, louder, "run!" He got yet another puzzled look from the Sins, plus one from the cat, so he lost what little patience he'd left and hit him with the tip of his bare foot, not so hard as to hurt him, but hard enough so that his order wouldn't be ignored any longer.

Finally the cat understood and trotted away, Gluttony immediately ran after him only causing him to run faster and when Sloth followed them with her eyes Crowley finally got his chance. He didn't hesitate because he couldn't, not anymore. He took the knife out of his pocket and planted it in Sloth's throat with a single, sharp movement. The blade penetrated easily while Sloth let out a strangled scream as the blood splashed away from the wound, smearing her blue dress, her long blond hair, and Crowley himself. It was a moment of complete, total, sick joy for the captive demon. The Sin's body was made of flash and bones just like his own, and like his own it could be wounded. She collapsed in a huge puddle of blood, indeed, while Gluttony was completely stunned and apparently unsure whether to run to her sister, attack Crowley or go back to chasing the cat.

Eventually she chose the first option. While Gluttony was busy yelling at her sister to get up and stop being overly dramatic, Crowley ran away, sure that it'd take much more that Gluttony's reprimand to get Sloth back on her feet anytime soon. The simple gesture of opening the door already had a taste of freedom so intoxicating that almost made his head spin. Or it was just his weakened body protesting. Anyway he let the cat out first then followed him, hoping that the feline survival instincts could guide them both through the gloomy maze of corridors he no longer remembered. 

Running proved to be much more difficult than walking, though, his body was actually too weak and the pain soon forced him to lean against the wall to avoid collapsing on the ground, which slowed down his escape dramatically.

It was mostly the thought of what they'd do to him if they caught him now, to help Crowley to find the strength to start running again, and since the cat couldn't move very quickly either, he even managed to keep up to him. At least for a while. He lost sight of his guide when they took a turn at the end of a corridor; the cat, small as he was, sneaked away easily, but Crowley bumped into something, or rather someone, when he'd the very unpleasant surprise of finding himself face to face with Pride.

It was as if he'd unconsciously stilled the time once again. He instinctively squeezed the knife, albeit it seemed now smaller and more useless than ever, but what was really unsettling, much more than being basically defenseless, was that behind Pride came Greed, and between the two of them, Aziraphale. 

Crowley had dreamt to see him again so many times, and yet that moment felt like ash in his mouth, because to see Aziraphale in Hell was also Crowley's most feared nightmare.

"N... No" was all he could barely mumble. Aziraphale should've been free, safe, Hell wasn't his place and yet here he was, because somehow Crowley had managed to bring him down with him. It was really true, then, his mere existence was like a contagious disease, his love was not enough, never enough, and if Aziraphale had come to detest him, well, a demon didn't deserve any better.

The angel, in fact, was looking at him with horror and repulsion, and Crowley couldn't really blame him. He knew he had to look awful, injured and dirty, smeared in Sloth's blood, while Aziraphale still looked so pure and simply beautiful, as if he'd found a way to bring some of his light even down there, in the darkest place ever existed.

Crowley wanted to say something, anything, but he just couldn't. Aziraphale, on the other hand, looked like someone who really had a lot to say, something which Crowley, at that point, was quite scared of. He didn't have the chance, though, because just when the angel opened his mouth to speak, something like a pink cannonball came barging over Crowley sending him ruinously to the ground. The impact on his injured shoulder was nothing short of horrible, he'd to fight just to stay conscious, it wasn't really a good moment to pass out like a damsel in distress, not with Aziraphale in danger and not with Gluttony attacking him like a rabid dog. 

Pain, though, was like a high tide, surrounding him, numbing his senses, cutting his breath. He didn't need it to survive, but he needed it to scream, which he managed only after a few instants, when Gluttony sank her teeth, now unnaturally sharp, into the flesh of his shoulder. Something else was going on, though, someone else was screaming too, but Crowley couldn't make out the words. He could still catch a glimpse of Greed and Pride holding back Aziraphale, who was trying to do something, but it was difficult to understand what exactly was going on. 

Through a myriad of bright dots that clouded his sight, and the mass of Gluttony's now unkept hair, Crowley still was able to see that the other Sins were arriving too, and that leading their small group there was Beelzebub, coming forward with a firm step and an icy glare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm late again, I had quite a turbulent start of 2020 which kept me away from anything fun-related. Anyway, the crisis is over, more or less, so I should be able to update a little sooner next time.
> 
> Title Track ---> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=esjtiM7nO5o


	8. Heaven out of Hell

The moment Beelzebub arrived where the two narrow aisles crossed and all the ruckus occurred, everyone, angel and demons, stopped in their tracks. Pride and Greed let go of Aziraphale, but didn't get out of his personal space; the angel in turn stood still, as if glued to the ground. Gluttony, who had been busy biting Crowley bloody, still stood crouched over him but raised her blood covered face to the newcomers. As for them, Envy said nothing but one could easily guess from his expression how happy the new development made him, while Belzebub looked for all intents and purposes like someone who wanted to cut short with that inconvenience to dedicate himself to more important things. It was Wrath, however, the first one to grab Crowley's attention.

She'd caught the cat, who had been unlucky enough to run into her on his short flight to freedom. Now she was holding him by the scruff of the neck, as a dirty dishcloth. The poor beast was still, terrified, and Crowley found himself hoping that she'd done nothing too gruesome to him, even though he was aware that he was supposed to deal with more pressing problems.

That depressing scene, though, the way Pride and Greed dared to get their hands on his angel, plus the fact that Gluttony was momentarily distracted, created the right mix for Crowley to be able to act.

_It's do or die, remember?_ Crowley told himself to regain some confidence. And with Aziraphale there, he was even less willing than usual to play the part of the damsel in distress.

His slim and agile body allowed him to lift one knee and plant a foot in the middle of Gluttony's stomach. He pushed hard, with such a force that she slammed into the opposite wall with a loud thud, the blow almost knocked her out.

She sat on the ground, then, dazed and groaning in pain, while Crowley could finally get back on his feet, albeit he did so striving hard not to lose consciousness. To shake off that crazy psychopath, however, had definitely improved his mood. At least as much as it was possible in such a circumstance, with the others looking at him in wonder and horror, as if such a behavior was something that had never been seen before, down there.

Envy, in fact, started to whine and everyone's attention shifted to him. “You can't really let him go, my lord! He's a rebel, he's disrespectful, can't you see?"

Gluttony immediately took the chance to make her own grievances. Still sitting on the ground, rubbing the back of her head, she said outraged "it's true, he just hurt Sloth!"

After that small outburst the both of them took on a contrite and worried expression, realizing that they'd just tried to give an order to their boss. This, together with Beelzebub's foul glare, made their siblings give up immediately the idea of joining their protests.

Crowley was spitefully pleased instead, and took the opportunity to cast a furtive glance at the angel, eager to engage his gaze and at the same time frightened of what he was going to find in it.

Aziraphale looked still quite unfazed, though. His silence, while understandable, worried and saddened Crowley, that wasn't exactly how he'd imagined their reunion. He sighed, thinking that the angel certainly couldn't be happy to be there, back to Hell, after only a handful of months.

And it was all Crowley's fault.

It was Beelzebub the one to distract him from that gloomy thoughts. His first words were a reprimand for his own lackeys, "Sloth is an inept, and so are you, now shut up" he said in a tone that nipped any objection in the bud, in fact no one dared to reply.

While the Sins mumbled some apologies, Crowley realized what Envy had actually said. Were they letting him go? Voluntarily? It was too absurd to be true. Again he looked at Aziraphale, hoping to find an answer in his blue eyes, and again the angel remained silent and stern, but at least he moved to get closer and help him to stand, since Crowley was evidently unstable on his legs.

The demon shivered. He'd been dangerously close to never see the angel again, and now there were so many things he wanted to say that not a single one came out of his mouth, but perhaps it was better that way. Of all the things he wanted to say to Aziraphale none of them was meant to be shared with the Sins.

“I... I want my cat back,” he managed to stammer instead. He knew it was the most idiotic thing to say in that circumstance, but it was also true, Crowley wanted that stupid, old, semi-blind cat back. To leave him behind was like betraying and ally, and even worse, meant letting their jailers win.

"Your cat?" Aziraphale asked frowning in confusion.

Crowley didn't miss the fact that it was the first time they had spoken to each other, and it had been about a stray. He could almost laugh at the oddity of it, but he knew that if he started now he'd never stop, and he couldn't allow his mind to drift towards madness like that. Instead he looked uncertainly at the angel, unsure of how much he could explain, but Wrath unintentionally saved him the trouble.

She came forward, still holding the poor cat by the scruff. "This belongs to my sister," she said sourly.

Crowley clenched his fists. Of course Wrath couldn't care less about the cat, she only wanted to be difficult. "She gave it to me,” he said. “now it's mine!"

"No, it's mine, give it to me, Wrath," Gluttony claimed while getting on her feet again. Her boss order apparently already forgotten. There was a strange light in her eyes and Crowley was sure she was up to no good. "I said it's mine," he insisted.

"Are you serious?" Aziraphale asked, now perfectly confused too.

"It's a long story, Angel," Crowley tried to explain with an apologetic look.

Beelzebub, already tired of it all, cut is short. "Go away, traitor, before I change my mind."

"I'm not leaving without the cat!" Crowley said then, with all the confidence he was capable of, then as if he wanted to make his words less abrupt, just in case, he added "my lord."

"Crowley!" Aziraphale interjected even before Crowley could finish his sentence, then looked at him with big, round eyes and the look of somebody who was getting closer and closer to panic.

Crowley felt his blood turn to ice in his veins. He was conducting a very dangerous game, he knew it, and not just for himself. If his stubbornness ended up putting Aziraphale in even more danger, or worse, hurting him, he'd never, ever forgive himself, but for some reason he couldn't explain, he also knew that he just couldn't leave without the cat.

"Angel, I... I can't.”

Aziraphale sighed, he had absolutely no idea what the cat's role in that story could be, much less why Crowley cared so much. What he knew for sure, instead, was that they had to get out of that impasse and do it soon, if he really wanted to get out of there and take his demon away with him.

"Fine," he sighed quite impatiently. "Please give me the cat" he said to Wrath. Despite his polite words no one could have doubted that that was an order.

Wrath of course noticed it. “Forget it! The pass is only for one.”

"Which pass?" Crowley asked.

"It's a long story, Crowley," replied the angel.

Beelzebub eyerolled. Very hard. “You're wasting my time. All of you.” A tense silence fell over everyone. The way he'd spoken promised an imminent disaster.

"Alright" said Pride, now vaguely alarmed. "Wrath, that's a useless animal for a useless demon. Let's give it back to him." He took the cat from his sister's hands, looked grimly at Crowley and threw the cat to the ground at his feet. The poor animal landed with a small thud, emitted a choked meow then nothing more.

Gluttony pouted while Wrath laughed.

Crowley instead let go of the arm that Aziraphale had offered him and ran to kneel next to the cat. "No!” He shouted, “Pride, you fucking bastard!"

"You really _are _pathetic," Beelzebub stated then, as if he found it somehow surprising. He didn't bother to hide all of his disgust, but Crowley was no longer paying any attention to him. He was furious, with all of them, on behalf of a cat who he wasn't even remotely fond of. Maybe he'd finally gone crazy, after all.

At least the cat wasn't dead, not yet. Crowley took him as gently as he could, determined to take him away, dead or alive, and stood up fighting against the nausea caused by the pain and the dizziness due to the blood loss. He really couldn't waste any more time, he knew it. He desperately needed to see Aziraphale out of Hell and to know how he'd gotten there in the first place. At that rate, though, he'd never find out.

While Crowley was struggling to get up again, Wrath ended up with a cry of pain against the wall, with Aziraphale's open hand on her chest and the angel looking at her as hostile as Crowley had never seen him.

"You'll never hurt him again, he's free to go now!"

She growled, bud didn't dare to answer back. Crowley instead gulped. He didn't even care what Wrath had tried to do, he'd never seen Aziraphale like that and God, Satan or someone forgave him, the angel was now hotter than his own flaming sword.

"Let's go Crowley," Aziraphale ordered peremptorily, totally oblivious of the effect he was having on the demon, then he let Wrath go with one last warning look.

Crowley nodded, he would have obeyed that command much faster if possible, but his precarious physical conditions didn't allow him.

Aziraphale noticed and put his arm around the demon's slim waist, he almost had to drag him because Crowley could barely stand, and while doing so he took the chance to squeez his hide lightly, as if to reassure him.

Before they could truly leave, though, Beelzebub stood before them. "This isn't over" he said maliciously.

"It is," Aziraphale replied sternly. The two looked at each other with a ferocity that made the other Sins shiver. Crowley, on the other hand, couldn't help looking at Aziraphale and falling in love with him again and again, as if it were the first time, while his heart was doing all sorts of stupid things in his chest.

"Yeah, as he said," he managed to mumble, jut to have the last word. He still had absolutely no idea what was going on, but even if he had, Aziraphale's words, together with his voice and attitude were causing a whole series of overwhelming sensations in his belly and his mind wouldn't have been able to produce anything more eloquent.

Beelzebub was clearly of a completely different opinion, let alone the other Sins, but still he moved, although very reluctantly. None of the others dared to interfere, and Aziraphale and Crowley were finally free to go.

They did so without looking back, as quickly as Crowley's precarious conditions allowed. Only once they were on the road, back in the human world, and after long minutes of tense silence, Aziraphale turned to Crowley and hugged him as he had never done before.

"Oh Crowley, my love! My love!"

Confused more than ever, weakened by pain and blood loss, and now also blinded by the sunlight he hadn't seen for weeks, Crowley automatically returned the embrace with his right arm, while in the left he still held the cat, but all he managed to say were a few disconnected syllables without any sense. The only think he could really understand was that Aziraphale had called him 'my love'. Twice. His knees became jelly and soon they couldn't hold him anymore, so he was forced to let himself slide on the ground along the first available wall.

Aziraphale did his best to support him to make sure that his landing was as painless as possible.

"My poor dear," said the angel now in tears, in a trembling voice, as he quickly took off his own jacket and put it on the demon's shoulders. Only then did Crowley realize that he was on a public street, half naked, barefoot and covered in blood.

That didn't matter, though. With an unsteady voice, because the reality of being finally free was hitting him only then, Crowley asked "Aziraphale, you... Are you mad at me?”

“WHAT? Of course not! Why should I?"

"Because... well... they hurt you because of me, I know that, and because of me you had to come to such a place and... I'm so dirty, look at your nice clothes, I've ruined them. I'm so sorry.”

"Oh my dear, none of this is your fault, and besides I'm fine now."

“But you... the way you looked at me... and you wouldn't talk to me."

Only then did Aziraphale understand the misconception that his attitude had inadvertently created. Kneeling in front of the demon, he brushed a red lock of air off his brow. “Crowley, obviously I'm angry, furious even, but certainly not at you. I was tremendously upset seeing what they'd done to you. And I'll always, always come for you, surely you know this."

Crowley nodded weakly. “I do.” Then, as on a second thought, he added more forcibly, “but I'm not worth it! I'm a filthy being and see? I can't make you happy, I even put you in danger."

Aziraphale closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. It was not in his nature to hate, but whoever had put those ideas in Crowley's head, well, they were really testing him. He took the demon's face with both hands and kissed him long and deeply. Crowley wanted to tell the angel not to touch him while he was so dirty, but he'd missed him so much that he simply couldn't bring himself to push Aziraphale away so soon, he had to simply give up and let himself be kissed stupid. He needed it.

Almost nothing seemed to make sense at that moment, neither being free, nor being in the angel's arms again. Crowley's exhausted brain was really struggling to keep up with reality and in part he still expected to wake up on a cold, rough concrete floor to find out it had all been just a beautiful dream.

Dreams, however, didn't have the alluring scent of his angel's skin, neither tasted as good as Aziraphale's kisses.

In that position, sitting on the ground, they were starting to attract a bit too much attention though; with a small miracle Aziraphale had to send away a kind guy who had come close to offer help, that meant it was really time to go.

"Let's go home, the three of us," he said with a light caress on the cat's small head. The animal seemed to take a sigh of relief, but Crowley didn't know for sure if it was true or he'd just imagined it. "We can talk about everything later." Aziraphale added, seeing Crowley still uncertain.

The demon nodded immediately. He wanted to go home so badly that even the mere sound of those few words had caused such a lump in his throat that he couldn't formulate any coherent word. As he looked around, still trying to accept to be finally free, his eyes rested on the Bentley parked in the sideway in front of them.

He startled, even his car looked like a small miracle. "Aziraphale, that's..." he said trying to get back on his feet.

"Yes, my dear, sorry if I took her without your permission, but I thought you wouldn't want a bus ride."

This time it was Crowley to kiss Aziraphale with all the little strength he still possessed. He'd missed his car too, more than he had suspected, and he wasn't actually up for a bus ride right now.

"Will you let me drive?" Aziraphale asked half joking. Crowley was clearly not in a condition to do much more then sleep, but it was nice to have the chance to ask him for permission again.

"Of course, angel." The demon answered with a small smile.

Aziraphale helped him up and got into the driver's seat, then started the engine with an happy sigh. This time he was eager to go home, because he wouldn't find it as empty as before. While driving, though, Aizraphale noticed that Crowley sat completely unbalanced, in an attempt not to put too much weight on the left side of his body, he wanted to ask why, but the way Crowley was now looking at him was distracting.

The demon in fact was determined not to pay too much attention to his own predicament, he wanted to focus only on his angel now, to look at him, to trace his beautiful profile with his eyes again and again. He almost couldn't believe how much he'd missed Aziraphale and he felt like he could be perfectly happy just like that, simply looking at him, basking in the angel's inner light.

Misinterpreting Crowley's adoring gaze, and thinking it was just curiosity, Aziraphale took his hand and kissed his chapped knuckles. "I'll tell you everything, we have time." He said.

Instinctively Crowley turned back to be absolutely sure that no one was following them, because despite everything he couldn't help worry. In the past they had already took for granted to be safe, to have all the time in the world, but they'd been proved sorely wrong. "Are you sure?" He had to ask.

Aziraphale saw the doubt in his golden eyes and hastened to reassure him. "Absolutely, yes," he said, firmly believing in his own words. Crowley was too tired to be able to contradict him and if Aziraphale was sure then he was sure too, but he was still undoubtedly curious.

"How did you find me?" He asked weakly, stroking the cat sleeping on his legs, he seemed to have recovered a little after the blow, but he was still weak and run down too.

Aziraphale sighed, he could understand that Crowley was full of doubts, and he too had a thousand questions, he wanted to know what had happened to him, for example, what they had done to him, if he was truly well, but he had to start somewhere, and it was clear that Crowley was suffering, so he needed to distract him from the pain.

"Let's say I asked politely"

Crowley scoffed. "To whom?"

"I, well, to tell you the truth, I asked Gabriel"

"_Who_!?"

"To be fair I didn't have many options"

Crowley took a while to get over his own astonishment. “Then what?”

"Actually, I don't know how he did it, but clearly he did something to, well, persuade your boss. I mean, your ex-boss. So one day I just found myself the lucky owner of this sort of pass. As you can imagine, Gabriel wasn't exactly prone to elaborate."

"No shit. But are you trying to tell me he helped you out of kindness?"

"Oh my dear boy, of course not!"

“So?”

"I had to, more or less, blackmail him."

Crowley gasped, now truly alarmed. "More or... With what?"

The angel explained briefly and when he was done Crowley looked at him with his mouth open for so long that Aziraphale almost started to feel uncomfortable. “You know you can't exactly reason with the archangels. And I needed to find you, I needed you. I... I..."

Flabbergasted, incredulous and exhausted, Crowley was still able to detect Aziraphale's distress. He put a reassuring hand on his knee and said "I wasn't judging you, Aziraphale, we both know it's not my place it's just that..."

“That?”

"What you did is dangerous," Crowley sighed. He looked as if he was about to fall asleep, so his reproach came out much less stern than he'd have liked. He was grateful to Aziraphale, more than he could ever put into words, and he admired his audacity incredibly, but he still didn't want the angel to take useless risks for him.

"I know, but I had to do it. You'd have done the same."

Crowley couldn't really argue, there was nothing he wasn't willing to do for Aziraphale, and if they'd took his angel away from him he'd have probably set the whole world on fire. Believing Aziraphale dead once had been more then enough. He really didn't feel like remembering that day, anyway, he much preferred to lighten the mood.

“Just so you know, a blackmail is not _asking politely_.”

Aziraphale had to laugh at that, Crowley surely had a point.

"It's sexy, though," Crowley added after a while with a tiny smile, because it was true.

"Sexy?"

"Yes, you are. Immensely" the demon said, as he finally let himself be tempted by the prospect of sleeping. "When you threatened Wrath I..." he couldn't finish the sentence, albeit the meaning of it was clear, he yawned, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Aziraphale looked at him smiling fondly, with a faint blush on his cheeks. Sexy, after all, was not a bad thing to be.

Later, getting Crowley out of the car proved to be quite the challenge. The demon trembled with fatigue and pain, as he moved Aziraphale had confirmation of what he'd already noticed before but hadn't had the opportunity to investigate yet: there was something seriously wrong with Crowley, apart from what was immediately visible.

In fact, the demon managed to take only a few steps inside the shop before letting go of the cat and collapsing on the ground. He was still conscious, but the adrenaline that had kept him standing during his escape had long since exhausted its effect.

The cat, after looking around anxiously for a few moments, chose to take refuge under an armchair. Since he was moving on his own paws Crowley was quite satisfied, it was much more than he'd previously expected.

Aziraphale was much less calm, instead. "Crowley!" He cried alarmed when he saw the demon sitting on the floor.

"I just need a minute, angel."

"Here." Aziraphale brought him a small armchair with the intent to help him get up and sit on it, but Crowley instead put his right arm on the cushion and hid his face in the crook of his elbow, so Aziraphale knew that he had no intention to move anytime soon. It was perfectly understandable, but he certainly couldn't leave Crowley there, on a cold floor.

"Crowley," he said gently, stroking the back of the demon's neck, "tell me where it hurts."

Crowley shook his head weakly, he hated being so pathetic in front of his angel, but he'd simply reached the end of his rope.

Aziraphale insisted, he had to, he simply couldn't tolerate to let Crowley suffer for one moment longer. "Please, my love, let me help you."

And when Aziraphale called him 'my love' Crowley truly had no more defences. Too tired to really argue, he gave up any pretence of pride or strength and materialized his wings.

Aziraphale winced as he knelt behind him. The right one was pretty normal, although the feathers were all dented and messy, rather than shining like soft black velvet. The left one, on the other hand, was bent at the base, completely unnaturally, the damage was evident and Aziraphale had to close his eyes for a moment.

"Good Lord," he said, barely finding strength for a whisper. "My poor, poor boy, what they've done to you."

Crowley took a few long moments before answering "can you fix it, angel?" He asked in a small voice.

"Of course," Aziraphale replied immediately, even though he had to fight a tremendous tangle of anger and fear. He felt a shiver down his spine, he could only imagine the pain and he couldn't stand the idea of that precious creature suffering so much, it was horribly unfair and that was only the most visible damage.

Aziraphale hadn't been able to protect Crowley from it all, but now he was determined more then ever to make it better. He moved and knelt beside the demon. "Come here," he said gently, inviting the demon into his arms. Crowley hesitated, he wanted nothing more than to sink into that embrace, and he was now too exhausted to even remember having some pride, but moving was really painful and he'd already had as much as he could take.

With his eyes shining with unshed tears Aziraphale insisted, even though he could understand Crowley's fears very well. "I'll take care of you, my dear, I promise, come to me" he tried again, but the demon shook his head, still hidden in his arm, like a stubborn child.

Aziraphale sighed, he took Crowley's wrist and with all the possible gentleness led him to move. At that point Crowley had to look up, the devastation on his face broke Aziraphale's heart once again, but at the same time increased his determination even more.

"I'll make it stop, don't you trust me?" The angel said in a kind, soft tone.

Finally Crowley gave in. He trusted Aziraphale more than he could tell, so he plunged into his chest with more momentum than his condition might have made one think. Aziraphale struggled to keep his balance, but he was relieved to see that Crowley still had some energy left, and even more, to finally be able to hold him, rocking him gently.

"My love," he said stroking the demon's auburn hair. "You can cry if you want, you'll feel better."

But Crowley didn't cry. It was a promise made to himself that he wanted to keep, even if it was now useless. He was at home, finally, he was safe, yet he'd lost so much already that he need to hold onto something.

Sensing his discomfort, though, Aziraphale spread his wings and formed a white shell around them both. He hoped that he could calm Crowley a bit because the demon continued to shiver incessantly. Moving his mind elsewhere for a few minutes would help, the angel was sure of that.

He still didn't dare to touch the broken wing because he was afraid of scaring Crowley. The demon, however, seemed just amazed to find himself surrounded by the shiny, bright white light. He reached out, almost shyly, until he could touch those wonderful soft feathers with his fingertips, almost as if he had never seen them before.

The angel allowed a tiny smile, perhaps his idea was working. Crowley, indeed, hardly noticed when Aziraphale gently stroked his broken wing and magically the bones realigned without causing him any pain.

They stood like that for a long time, on the floor, happy just to be in each other arms again, even though they were both still shaken and the floor was cold and uncomfortable.

After a while, indeed, Aziraphale decided that they'd be even happier in a more comfortable position.

"Crowley," he said in a soft voice as not to startle the demon.

Crowley raised his face and Aziraphale gently stroked his cheek. "Darling, will you let me help you sleep?"

The demon just looked at him with his big sun-colored eyes for an unusually long time, so much so that the angel had to wonder if he'd really understood. Aziraphale kept on caressing his face lightly with his knuckles and doing so, took away a few bruises. Eventually Crowley nodded. After all, sleeping was a really good idea, and Aziraphale was there, he'd take care of everything, of him. Nothing bad could happen as long as the angel was by his side.

An hour later the angel had managed, not without a few miracles, to give Crowley a warm bath and put him to bed under a pile of warm blankets. He had initially feared that Crowley wouldn't let him do any of it. Probably even in the state of confusion in which he was, or perhaps for that very reason, he'd have considered it a weakness not worthy of a demon.

Crowley, instead, didn't exactly cooperate but neither did he resist and in the end he didn't even need Aziraphale's help to sleep. The instant his head touched the pillow he voluntarily abandoned himself to a deep and dreamless sleep.

Only then Aziraphale breathed the first real sigh of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Almost reaching the end, here :)
> 
> Title Track --> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-MHflrjPusk


	9. Damage control

Aziraphale never slept the whole time Crowley was unconscious. He watched over him, to be sure that he no longer felt any pain and his sleep was peaceful and dreamless.

He healed all his wounds, down to the smallest scratch and after that he too changed and slipped under the blankets. Aziraphale didn't plan to sleep, but he couldn't bear to stay away from the demon. He snuggled beside him, gently resting his head on Crowley's shoulder, careful not to disturb his rest. He'd missed Crowley sorely, he'd missed him so much that now that he finally had him in his arms again, he couldn't fathom how he'd even managed to survive without him.

The angel left the bed only very rarely to stretch his muscles and to take care of the cat who was settling in, and was slowly recovering too. Aziraphale was genuinely happy for the poor animal, fed him the best food and made sure he was comfortable, but now he needed to dedicate all of his energy and time to Crowley.

Not that Crowley needed much, deeply asleep as he was. Occasionally he moved and shifted position and always ended up looking for his angel and clinging to him as if he were afraid Aziraphale would disappear in a cloud of smoke. The angel found it extremely endearing and asked for nothing better than to be imprisoned in Crowley's embrace.

Eventually the demon slept for nearly six days, which was a long wait for Aziraphale, but still shorter than what he'd expected.

One evening he was sitting in bed reading with his back against a pile of pillows. Crowley was still asleep, on his stomach, with his head resting on the angel's belly. With one hand Aziraphale held the book, with the other he absentmindedly stroked the short hair on the nape of Crowley's neck so that he could eventually feel him moving. When he realized that Crowley wasn't simply turning in his sleep, though, but was really about to wake up, Aziraphale immediately closed the book, with his heart beating like a drum.

He'd been looking forward to that moment, but he was also afraid of finding out what damage the long weeks of imprisonment and torture had caused Crowley.

Lazily, the demon's hand, casually placed on Aziraphale's side, began to move in a very slow caress and Crowley started to nuzzle the angel's soft flannel pajamas with a moan that could only be described as pleased, before his golden eyes finally opened.

Aziraphale metaphorically held his breath and said nothing, in case Crowley chose to go back to sleep, but the demon was now completely awake, and sat up rubbing his eyes.

He looked around the room, almost as if he didn't recognize the place, and eventually his gaze rested on Aziraphale. The two just looked at each other for a few long instants. Aziraphale dared not say a word, while Crowley's gaze remained unreadable.

"Hi Angel," he finally said with a huge smile.

Aziraphale went dangerously close to squeak with joy. Crowley had given him a radiant smile, and with the black silk pajamas casually slipped to reveal his shoulder, and his hair completely disheveled, he was the cutest thing Aziraphale had ever seen. The angel obviously was careful not say it aloud, but that was the maximum of his self control: after the first instants he just couldn't hold himself back anymore and literally assaulted the demon to shower him with kisses.

Only when Crowley found himself lying on his back, panting both for the kisses and the surprise, did Aziraphale really realize what he'd done.

"Good Lord, I... I'm sorry,” he stammered, leaning on his hands so as not to weigh too much on Crowley, who, by the way, looked as satisfied as he looked astonished, but surely not in pain. Aziraphale still fretted, "Crowley, my dear, how are you? Did I hurt you? Say something please."

Crowley shook his head. It was all true, then, he was back home and he no longer felt any pain. More importantly, Aziraphale was fine too.

“I'm good, angel,” he said. When Aziraphale tried to move back to let him sit up again, Crowley held him fast by the collar of his pajama. A small, impertinent smile appeared on his lips "so, did you miss me?"

Aziraphale returned the smile, eyerolled feigning exasperation, but then he got serious again and rested his forehead on Crowley's one. “Of course, my silly boy. Of course I missed you."

Crowley got serious too. He combed Aziraphale's soft curls with his slim fingers, "I missed you too,” he said, “but I'm here now, and it's all thanks to you.”

"You were already doing a good job, you and your colleague" said the angel trying to lighten the mood.

Crowley, on the other hand, wasn't ready to joke about it yet, so he added in a small voice, “you came for me. Thank you Aziraphale, I mean it.” Unable to say more, he held the angel tightly.

Aziraphale kissed his brow, "of course I came. I'll always, _always,_ come for you."

They remained like that for a long while, simply holding each other, lost in small kisses and slow caresses, until Crowley felt something moving on his legs and jumped out of his skin with a pretty un-demonic squeal.

It was just the cat and Aziraphale almost bursted out laughing, but refrained himself at the last second. There was nothing funny about Crowley being still so shaken, besides Aziraphale had had time to get used to have a third roommate around, while the demon had basically missed the last six days.

"Stupid flea sack," spluttered Crowley, but that was the extent of his retaliation. He didn't even try to get the cat off the bed.

"He came to visit you quite often, you know?" Aziraphale said looking at the cat, not without a certain amount of fondness.

Crowley, on the other hand, more than anything else, was amazed, but not because the cat had come to visit him. "Aziraphale, his eye..."

"Oh, yes. You see, that was an accident, a lucky one for once" said the angel, who had inadvertently healed the cat's blind eye while healing the wounds Pride had caused him.

"You're our hero" said Crowley, and kissed him on the cheek, then he turned to the cat “Just so you know, I've seen him first, so don't get the wrong idea.”

Aziraphale returned the kiss, then also petted the cat. "Poor dear, he went through a lot too, he deserved some reward after all."

"I guess" commented the demon, Aziraphale was right. “Besides it'll be easier to find somebody willing to adopt him if he's, well, whole.”

Aziraphale nodded, the cat instead, having already concluded his visit, jumped off the bed without a noise and went back to his own business.

Crowley stretched with a yawn, "do we have to get up?"

"Of course not, darling, we can do anything you want."

"Well," Crowley said with a lopsided grin, before pushing Aziraphale onto his back and taking the place that was rightfully his due, by the angel's side, with his head on Aziraphale's chest, where he could hear his heart beat.

"I want to stay here forever" Crowley said with another yawn.

"I have no objection"

"Go back to your book then, I know I've interrupted you"

"You didn't, besides I've read for the past six days"

“Six days?”

“Yes”

“Oh"

"Does it surprise you?"

“Not exactly, I just didn't realize I slept so long"

"You needed it"

"I guess." Inevitably Crowley had to remember why, exactly, he'd needed to sleep. Instinctively he pulled the angel closer repressing a shiver.

Aziraphale held him tight then put a finger under the demon's chin to gently raise his face, so that he could meet his gaze. "Crowley, if you want to talk about it I'm here.”

The demon sighed. Technically, Aziraphale hadn't asked, but it still felt like he had. It had to be expected, though perhaps not so soon. It wasn't morbid curiosity on the angel's part and Crowley knew it, of course Aziraphale was worried and full of doubts. Also, there were things that had to be said, so many hard, difficult things, and it'd have been better to talk about them as soon as possible, or else Crowley risked to lose his nerve.

Only after some time he dared to speak, when Aziraphale had started to doubt receiving any answer at all.

"Aziraphale" he began, but then he couldn't go on.

Aziraphale stroked Crowley's red, unkept hair slowly, to reassure him and let him know that he'd wait as long as necessary.

"How are you, angel? I mean, really."

Aziraphale sighed, Crowley was pretty much starting from the end, however, since it'd always been difficult, for the demon, to lay bare his feelings, Aziraphale wanted to set a good example. Besides, he too had many things to say.

"I was scared, Crowley, seriously. I don't think I've ever been so afraid before. At least when we had to face the Armageddon we were together.” The angel had to stop, then, and Crowley took his hand and kissed his fingertips.

“Anyway you're here now, you're safe,” the angel added. “It's all over and I'm fine."

“They've been here, they've hurt you. It's my fault.”

“No, it's _their_ fault and I'll make sure you know this, even if it's the last thing I ever do. Besides it was just a superficial cut, see?” In order to convince Crowley, Aziraphale raised his pajamas to show the point where Wrath had stabbed him. There was nothing left, not even the smallest scar, the skin was perfectly smooth and intact.

Crowley thought back to the day they'd given him the knife covered with Aziraphale's blood. He remembered all the fear and the helplessness and the desperation of those moments. He had to suppress a shiver once again, and bury those bad memories deep inside his mind. He bent down and kissed that spot gently, then he kissed Aziraphale's lips too, and decided that the moment had come.

There was one fundamental thing Crowley still didn't know. One thing that could change his whole world. And perhaps at that point it was an unnecessary question, on a rational level he understood that, but he still needed to hear the answer from Aziraphale's own lips.

Noticing Crowley's deep frown the angel worried. "Crowley, my dear, what is it?"

The demon then gathered the courage once and for all because waiting was definitely worse. "Aziraphale, are we... still together?” The moment those words left his lips, Crowley found out he was terrified of the possible answer. Aziraphale had gone to Hell, literally, to get him, he had taken care of him, kissed him, even, and they were now in the same bed, but there was something deep inside his mind trying to convince him it was all due to Aziraphale's innate kindness.

Crowley needed to know, with absolute certainty.

For his part, Aziraphale was completely baffled by that question. Of all the things Crowley could have said, that was the most unexpected. “Of course my dear, why wouldn't we? I mean, if you still want me."

Crowley sat up leaning on one arm, looking at the angel as if he'd just announced he wanted to set his books on fire. "What the Heaven are you talking about, of course I still want you."

"Well, then, why on earth shouldn't we be together?"

Crowley sighed and lowered his gaze. "It's that... you were so mad at me, and I know I disappointed you, angel. And... you said you needed some time alone."

So many things had happened, that Aziraphale had basically forgotten their fight. Now, anyway, he'd have gladly punched himself for even simply thinking such a thing. For as long as they had been apart Crowley had had to live with that excruciating doubt, Aziraphale was certain that, in his place, he would've gone crazy.

But Crowley was brave in a thousand different ways and Aziraphale loved him even more for that.

"Crowley, I was an imbecile and I let you down too," Aziraphale said as he sat up too.

"You didn't!"

“I reacted disproportionately, just like you said. If I had simply stopped to think for a moment I'd have understood immediately what I now know with absolute certainty. I am proud of you, for the way you resisted Lust and for countless other reasons, and I should've told you that way before it came to this."

Crowley didn't know what to say, but he felt an annoying sting in his eyes. _I'm proud of you_ was not something he had heard very often, during his career as a demon, those words sounded almost alien and in any case his brain was still stuck at the first step. Aziraphale still wanted to be with him, which was an incredible relief but also a punch in the gut.

Crowley was incredibly confused, he was having the hardest time keeping all his feelings at bay. The angel, though, wasn't finished, there were other important things he needed to say. "I left you alone when you needed me the most. All this time I always wondered, had we been together the day they came for you, then maybe...”

Crowley closed his eyes and shook his head as if to drive away a painful thought. “No. Most likely you'd have ended up in Hell too, nobody would have come to save me and... I don't even want to think about it, ok?"

“I came to your flat, that day, you know, but it was too late. I was too late. Crowley, I failed you.”

Sensing Aziraphale's distress even before being able to detect it in his clear eyes, Crowley kissed him deep and slow. “You didn't. I'm the idiot who tried to run relying solely on a stray cat's sense of direction, you're the one who brought me home. You took care of me, you healed my wounds and I'm fine, now, it's all over. We're both fine, let's forget all about it, ok?”

Aziraphale wanted nothing more than forget, but he wasn't ready yet. "But still, I was so mean to you, Crowley, I never got the chance to tell you how sorry I am."

Crowley flopped backwards on his pillow, covering his eyes with his arm. He had a real whirl of emotions in his head and thinking wasn't easy at all. One think he knew for sure, though "you couldn't be mean if you tried. I deserved what I got because I hurt you. I lied to you and I needed a lesson. I deserved everything."

“A lesson?” Aziraphale really, truly, absolutely couldn't believe what he'd just heard. “Crowley they kidnapped you, they tortured you!” He said almost too vehemently. Maybe by demon standards that counted as a lesson, but Aziraphale couldn't even stand the thought, and surely he wasn't prone to let Crowley think he'd deserved any of it. "I must admit I'd rather you'd been more honest with me, but you absolutely didn't deserve any of the things they did to you, and I refuse to let you think otherwise!"

Crowley removed the arm hiding his eyes but said nothing. Aziraphale was not at all satisfied with it.

"Crowley you didn't deserve it and I want you to understand this," he repeated sternly. "Please, if you don't want to believe anything else at least believe this, believe me."

Another long moment passed before Crowley spoke again. It was all so hard, he desperately wanted to believe Aziraphale and just enjoy his warm embrace, but the last time he had put off a difficult conversation it had ended spectacularly bad. That was the whole point, and Crowley didn't want to repeat the same mistake.

“I'm glad you still want me, but...”

“But?”

"Aziraphale, I don't think I'm the right choice for you," Crowley said, sitting up again. Those words tasted like ash in his mouth, but having said them, the demon felt oddly relieved.

The angel, instead, looked at him with his mouth open, as if Crowley had just slapped him. It wasn't what he'd expected and he didn't like the direction the conversation was taking.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I am a demon and you are an angel."

"This is hardly a surprise, isn't it?"

“But we weren't together before, not like this. This relationship will only harm you, it already did."

Aziraphale's eyes widened even more, he was now positively terrified. The demon was sitting across from him, his legs crossed and his eyes downcast. He seemed lost in his thoughts, so far away that Aziraphale, for one horrible moment, feared he wouldn't be able to reach him.

"These are not your words," he said trying and failing to keep the apprehension away from his voice, while his mind was struggling to accept what was happening.

“I've been blind, Aziraphale. I didn't want to see what I knew had been there for a long time. Because of me you had to face the Sins. If I think you even had to blackmail Heaven! For me, a demon. I simply opened my eyes."

"Crowley, no! They put these ideas into your head, didn't they? You know they just wanted to hurt you, they wanted to ruin what we have, because it's beautiful."

“Yes, they did, because they're demons and that's what they do, and guess what? I'm a demon too, that's exactly my point.”

“And I'm an angel! Are you implying that when you look at me you see Gabriel, or Michael or any other of those assholes up there?”

That was quite the creepy thought in Crowley's book, “no, damn, of course not,” he'd to admit.

“Then why can't you apply the same logic to yourself?”

“Look, I get what you're trying to say, but the fact still remains that I put you in danger and maybe it'll happen again."

Now Aziraphale was close to panic. Instinctively he squeezed the hem of the blanket in his hands and forced back the tears, still his voice came out uncertain and trembling. To think that only a few minutes ago he'd been so happy! "This can't be happening... Crowley, your fears are the same as everybody else's."

Crowley didn't reply. Maybe it was true, maybe love was even supposed to be scary like that, he didn't know. The only thing he'd ever known about love was the angel sitting across from him, beautiful and strong and pure. The mere thought of being the cause of his ruin was unbearable, for Crowley. All the things the Sins had told him came to haunt him with outstanding clarity.

“Are you really going to break up with me?” Aziraphale asked . “What about me? Do I have no say in that?"

Crowley looked wistfully into Aziraphale's eyes. They shone with unshed tears and he simply couldn't stand the sadness in them.

He reached out with his hand and cupped the angel's cheek. “No, I'm not. But I want you to consider the option, I mean, if you wanted to I'd understand, totally. It'd be the right thing do, after all, the wisest. And I know I couldn't ever find the strength to do it because I'm bad and weak. And selfish."

Once it was made clear that Crowley was not leaving him, Aziraphale heaved a huge sigh of relief, then he took Crowley's hand and brushed his lips on the demon's knuckles. He also cursed himself a thousand times because the Sins had their fair amount of responsibility, but he'd been the one to call Crowley selfish. He'd spoken without thinking, that day, and he'd hurt Crowley much more than the demon had ever shown. Aziraphale only hoped it wasn't too late.

“The right thing?” He said more calmly. “We'd both be completely miserable, how can you not see it? Is that what you want?”

Despair was still so evident in Aziraphale's eyes that Crowley could no longer bear it. “No, of course not. Sorry angel, I shouldn't throw my doubts on you like this."

Aziraphale shook his head, he forced himself to calm down before the impetuosity of his feelings caused a new disaster. "You have nothing to apologize for, I want us to share everything, even this. I am grateful that you told me, actually, I am grateful for the trust you have in me. And I'm grateful because you gave me the opportunity to tell you that sometimes I'm afraid too."

"I know. I understand that, you had to turn your back on your whole world."

“No, I wasn't talking about that. My world was a lie and I don't miss it, but I want to make you happy and I don't know if I'm _the right choice_, as you said. For an instance, do you think I'm not afraid that one day you'll get tired of me?"

At that Crowley looked so outraged it was almost comical. "Absolutely impossible, angel."

With a tiny, tentative smile, Aziraphale took the demon's hand and placed a small kiss on its palm. "Do you think I'm not afraid that one day you'll find someone more interesting?"

"What!?"

"Come on, Crowley, I spend the days reading and chocolate profiteroles are my idea of fun, it must be deadly boring for you, I know that."

“No no no no, you know nothing! It's not boring, it's not boring at all. Angel, I've been drooling all over you for 6000 years, don't you think that if you'd been boring I'd have noticed?"

“I don't know,” shrugged Aziraphale. “Don't you think that if I you were selfish, cruel and weak I'd have noticed?"

Crowley opened and closed his mouth to say something but he couldn't find any argument. Aziraphale solved his problem with a slow, deep kiss.

"If one day you find out that you don't love me anymore" Crowley immediately tried to protest, but Aziraphale gently put two fingers on his lips, then continued "I want to know immediately. Until then, please let me decide what's better for me, alright?"

Crowley nodded. He knew free will was important, for Aziraphale, given how he'd been forced to go without for so long, he'd never meant to take it away from him. “Ok but it's totally impossible. Just so you know."

“What's impossible?'

"For me to find out that I don't l... well... you know”

“I don't”

“You do!”

"I'm not sure, better to be specific"

"You bastard, now you're just teasing me!"

"That's true”

“Angel!”

"Oh, come here, you old serpent" Aziraphale had to struggle to capture Crowley who tried to evade his embrace, but without any real effort, in fact he soon gave in and let himself be held tight and kissed to exhaustion.

Aziraphale occasionally enjoyed teasing him a bit, but they were just innocent jokes and Crowley knew it. He actually enjoyed Aziraphale's playful side quite a lot and he promised himself he'd do his best to forget all of his irrational fears and made his angel laugh more often.

In the following days, however, as Crowley slowly regained his strength, Aziraphale had the time of his life pampering him indecently, but at the same time he couldn't stop thinking about what the demon had said. Crowley was truly convinced to be the wrong choice for him, and Aziraphale couldn't simply accept it. Much of those dark thoughts had certainly been put in his head by the Sins, but the angel was certain that if Crowley hadn't already been so insecure about his place in their relationship, they wouldn't have been able to achieve such a result.

Crowley hid his fears well, he always had, but Aziraphale was no longer willing to let him do it, especially since, even if involuntarily, he had contributed to amplify them. Now it was up to him to help the demon heal from that too, especially given how Crowley had a tendency to retreat into himself.

The most evident symptom was that Crowley refused to go out, now, even with Aziraphale. At first the angel hadn't paid too much attention to it, on the contrary, he had considered it quite normal, given the circumstances, but after a while he'd noticed that while Crowley looked more healthy and relaxed, he still hadn't gone out, not even once, not even to go and check on his poor, neglected plants. He was willing to give the demon some more time, but he knew that in the long run that attitude would become unhealthy, so he decided to act and start from the fundamentals.

The first part of Aziraphale's plan was just a very small step that he hoped could reassure Crowley in more ways then one.

He went out one day, for a small commission. Crowley of course didn't offer to accompany him.

When Aziraphale returned he found the demon lying on the carpet, leaning on an elbow and chatting with the cat. He was apparently illustrating him all the advantages of his hypothetical new home. That same morning they had written an ad together and Crowley had immediately posted it with the new phone he'd bought, of course online.

Aziraphale smiled to himself, almost sorry to interrupt. He crouched next to them, kissed Crowley on the forehead, then petted the cat and asked him, “do you mind if I steal Crowley for a few minutes?”

The cat purred.

Crowley was intrigued but also a little wary. "Hn, I've got the feeling there is a _conversation _coming my way."

"Indeed," smiled the angel. He made Crowley sit on the sofa, sitting in turn in front of him on a small armchair.

"You know these things are not really my speciality" Crowley tried to protest.

"It's your lucky day, then, because I'll be the one to do all the talking."

Crowley said nothing but from his vaguely alarmed expression Aziraphale had the confirmation he was doing the right thing. Crowley continued to expect the worst, even from him, and that just couldn't do.

Despite this, Aziraphale suddenly lost some of his confidence. He couldn't help feeling a bit foolish as he pulled a small rectangular box of shiny gray velvet out of his pocket and offered it to Corwley.

A gift wasn't what the demon had expected at all, the confusion was clearly visible on his face. Aziraphale then gave a tentative smile, "that's for you, my dear. Open it."

Crowley was actually very curious, so he hastly opened the box. His first reaction was to look up in the angel's blue eyes in total amazement.

Aziraphale blushed, “I thought that, I mean...”

If Aziraphale could only stutter, Crowley was completely at a loss, he shifted his gaze again to the two small circles of white gold that shone inside the box, and found them beautiful and frightening at the same time. The angel's words came to him like a distant echo.

"I know you probably find it silly, but... are you listening to me, Crowley dear?"

Only then did the demon seem to truly return to himself, but this didn't mean that he knew what to say. On the contrary, he felt like his brain had turned into a large gray marshmallow.

"Aziraphale, what does this mean?" That question had come out all wrong but fortunately the angel understood. He had to appeal to all of his courage to stop talking only for broken sentences and be clear on a point that was crucial.

“It means I wish you belonged to me, Crowley, forever. And I also want you to know that I too wish to belong to you, forever."

Apparently not only Crowley's tongue, but all of his muscles were knotted because of the whirlwind of emotions into which he had fallen. Aziraphale tended to have that effect on him quite often. He remained completely motionless, he wanted to kiss the angel, and hold him tight, and wear the ring and never remove it, then kiss Aziraphale again and again, but he couldn't do anything at all.

"It's just a symbol, you know," Aziraphale shrugged, slightly worried by Crowley's mutism and really starting to fear that he'd done something very silly. “Humans do it all the time and I fiund it... Well, I thought... of course you don't have to wear it if you don't want to, but I'd like you to keep it. That's... if you want to.”

"I do!" Crowley hastened to say, finally out of his stupor, then almost as if he feared the ring would be taken away from him, he reached for it with so much energy he caused it to fall to the ground. "Fuck, I'm sorry!" he said alarmed, Aziraphale instead smiled and heaved a sigh of relief. All that enthusiasm made him happy and he could finally release some tension.

He took the ring before it could roll under the sofa, then took Crowley's left hand in his own. "Let me..." he said, and slipped the small golden jewel on the demon's slim finger. It fit so perfectly that Aziraphale had to simply contemplate it for a few seconds, smiling his brightest smile. Only after he noticed how close Crowley was to self combust.

"Are you okay my dear?" He had to ask the instant he raised his gaze on the demon.

"Yesss, I mean, yes. Now... Me too” Crowley took the other ring and for some unexpected stroke of luck he managed to put it on the angel's finger at the first try.

Aziraphale beamed, he was incredibly happy, those rings were really just a symbol, not much more than a game, yet they filled him with immense joy.

"So, you belong to me now" said the angel only half jokingly. It wasn't as if they hadn't belonged to each other since forever.

Crowley eagerly nodded. “I already did” he said indeed, then a little more hesitantly he added, “and you, will you belong to me too?"

"Forever, my love."

That was the coup de grace, Crowley grabbed the lapel of Aziraphale's jacket and hid his face in the angel's chest. He said something quite inarticulate and Aziraphale laughed affectionately. “I'm afraid I didn't get a word, my dear.”

"I said," muttered Crowley, "that you are indecently sappy and I love you so much I feel like exploding."

"Please, do not explode so close to my books, alright?"

"Ngk, I'll see what I can do."

"Oh, and Crowley?"

“Yes?”

"I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter! I guess ^^'
> 
> Title track --> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fna56a_r41s


	10. Right till the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware! NSFW stuff ahead ;)

As the days went by, Crowley seemed to be getting better and better and consequently Aziraphale too. Every now and then he saw the demon's eyes linger on the ring, and a tiny smile blossom on his lips. Each time Aziraphale felt the proverbial butterflies into his stomach. How could Crowley ever think of not being able to make him happy?

The most important thing for Aziraphale, however, was to make the demon just as happy. For a while simply being together seemed enough, Crowley was going back to be the usual fun loving, mischievous scoundrel, who now, in addiction, also enjoyed to play pranks on the cat. Aziraphale didn't even need to intervene because the cat, evidently more mature than his temporary owner, more often than not ignored the provocation and when necessary, he was more than capable to fend for himself.

Everything was back to normal, except that Crowley still refused to go out, finding a thousand different excuses, until Aziraphale thought it was time to go on with the second part of his plan, and give Crowley just a little push. He hadn't expected to solve everything with a simple ring anyway, nor did he want to force the demon to do things he wasn't ready to do, but Crowley had always been free, and he'd paid dearly for that freedom. Aziraphale just couldn't stand to see him confined behind the bars of the cage he was building for himself, even if this time the cage was safe, cozy and full of love.

One morning Crowley was mucking about with his laptop, talking to the cat who sat on the table next to him. It wasn't strange for someone who already spoke to the plants on a regular basis and Aziraphale couldn't help the fond smile stretching his lips while Crowley explained the cat why both he and Aziraphale had refused the last family who had called to adopt him.

“They have four children! Four!”

The cat didn't seem too interested, even if the matter concerned him personally.

"I know, I know," Crowley went on, immune to the other party's insolent indifference. "But imagine the chaos, you'd never be able to sleep again."

"Well, they had a nice garden, though," Aziraphale spoke coming closer and placing a hand on Crowley's shoulder.

The demon lifted his face giving him a blinding smile, silently asking for a kiss. Aziraphale of course obliged immediately.

"Exactly, a garden," the demon added.

“So what?”

"I'll tell you what, sooner or later those brats will also want a dog."

Aziraphale laughed because it was not improbable, after all, the funny thing was that Crowley always found a seemingly insurmountable defect every time someone answered their ad, at that rate they'd never find a new home for the poor cat.

"I've got a present for you, you know?" Said the angel sobering up and leaving the adoption problem be for the time being.

Crowley looked at him mildly surprised for the abrupt change of subject, but evidently curious. "Angel,” he said with a cheeky grin, “you're spoiling me rotten, it may be dangerous, I'm warning you."

Aziraphale smiled affectionately. “I'm not afraid of you, you foul fiend.”

Crowley bit his lower lip "mmh so bold and reckless, did I tell you you're hot?"

"Sort of, but please don't let this stop you"

Crowley snickered, "did you interrupt my dissertation just to fish for compliments?"

"No, dear. As I told you before I've got something for you," that said, Aziraphale gave Crowley a flat, white envelope.

The demon took it with a small frown, "and what's the occasion, pray tell?"

"The occasion is that I love you."

Crowley lowered his gaze for an instant, then kissed Aziraphale hoping his blush would go unnoticed, "thank you, angel."

At that Aziraphale seemed to fret a little. "Wait before thanking me, darling." He said, thus making Crowley even more curious.

“Why?”

"You may not like it."

Crowley took Aziraphale's hand and placed a small kiss on the golden ring. "The last present wasn't that bad," he said, and Aziraphale beamed, then took the chance to kiss Crowley's auburn air. "Very well then,” said the angel, “open it.”

When Crowley opened the envelope he immediately understood Aziraphale's hesitation. It contained two tickets for a brand new, apparently mind blowing show at the Planetarium for the following evening.

"Hn," it was all he said.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale stroke the demon's hair affectionately, not knowing what to say. What if Crowley got mad at him? What if he felt too pressured? Aziraphale hoped the demon would give him some more clue first.

"It, ah, it looks like a strategic gift, I'd say." Crowley offered with a small smile that didn't came out as convincing as he'd have liked. Just a quick look at those ticket had made his heart beat faster, and not in an entirely pleasant way.

Aziraphale didn't even try to lie, "well,you're not wrong, my dear. But it's not just that.” He knelt on one knee so that he could look into Crowley's beautiful eyes, then he took his hand. “Every time I look at the stars I think of you, you know? Besides I know how much you love them. Crowley, I just want you to be able to enjoy the stars again... with me."

And that was Aziraphale's problem. He said the most beautiful, heartbreaking things as if they were absolutely normal, and every time he left Crowley completely speechless. "Angel, I..."

“My dear, it's just an idea.” Aziraphale said hurriedly. He needed Crowley to know he was free to say no. “We don't have to go if you don't feel up to it."

Crowley sighed, and thought about it for a few moments. To be able to see the stars again, even just virtually, with Azirphale by his side? It was the easiest choice ever. He kissed the angel on the cheek, and even if the words didn't came naturally as they used to be, he said, "we'll go, in fact, I can't wait."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely." It was true, though not exactly for the reasons Aziraphale thought. “Thank you.”

The next day started quite ordinary, it was only after lunch time that Crowley started to feel sort of uneasy. Aziraphale had been incredibly sweet in the past days, he had pampered and spoiled him in every possible way and Crowley really was looking forward to have the opportunity to do something for him, so if Aziraphale wanted to see the blasted show and take the demon with him, Crowley would go no matter what.

Besides it wasn't just that. Crowley wasn't sure what was keeping him tied to their house, exactly. At first he hadn't even noticed it was becoming a problem, but now he had to admit that there was, in fact, something wrong. He didn't feel like abandoning the security of their home, neither he felt like being among other people, and it wasn't like him, but if there was one thing he wanted, it was to be whole again.

Spending the eternity in bed was tempting, but he had to get his life back as soon as possible if only to spite Hell. There were also a thousand things he still wanted to do with Aziraphale, a thousand places to see and above all he didn't want the angel to worry anymore, Aziraphale had already suffered enough because of him.

When the time came Crowley went out with some reluctance, yet putting his glasses on and getting behind the wheel of his beloved, neglected Bentley felt good. He started the engine, whose voice was like that of an old friend, then turned to Aziraphale with a small, mischievous smile

"Crowley, please, don't!"

It was too late. Crowley peeled out, then darted through the streets of London reaching their destination in no time. At least Aziraphale didn't have to pray for their non-discorporation for too long. When they arrived he glared at Crowley eloquently, but didn't find it in himself to be too stern, he'd noticed that the demon had made an effort just to walk out of the door. Driving like crazy had probably distracted him, which was, after all, good.

For the short distance they had to walk Aziraphale took him by the hand, Crowley said nothing, but he was clearly grateful for the support, especially when they reached the crowded foyer. Aziraphale then put his arm around his waist to hold him closer, asking him if he was okay. Crowley answered honestly that yes, he was doing fine, because even if he didn't feel completely at ease, he was still better than he'd thought possible.

Once back home after the show, Crowley was much more relaxed, happy to have made it, and Aziraphale was radiant with joy to see him like that.

Everything became easier, after that. Crowley didn't take the initiative to go out but no longer opposed to it, even if he still needed Aziraphale by his side. For the angel it was more than okay, he still didn't feel like letting Crowley out of his sight anyway, and besides he knew that certain things took time. Every small victory counted and made him more optimistic, especially when the memory of the first conversation he'd had with Crowley crossed his mind.

It happened rarely, but every now and then he saw the demon look pensive or sad, when he thought the angel wasn't watching. Aziraphale had to wonder how deeply had the Sins damaged him. Had Crowley really stopped seeing himself like a filthy, unworthy being? Could Aziraphale's love really be enough or was it just a juvenile fantasy?

Crowley carefully avoided the topic and Aziraphale didn't press, the demon was really doing his best, asking for more wasn't fair.

What Aziraphale could do, however, was to keep Crowley's mind occupied with happier thoughts. Since Crowley was now much more inclined to get out, one day Aziraphale proposed to go to see what had become of his plants, and maybe even bring a few of them to the book shop. It was a good way to reiterate, once again, that that wasn't just Aziraphale's place any more, furthermore, the angel knew that Crowley cared more about those plants than he wanted to show, in fact he agreed almost immediately.

To be back at Crowley's stylish flat was a bit like going back to the day Aziraphale had gone there only to find out that something terrible had happened. Fragments of Crowley's shattered phone were still on the floor, the wooden rolling pin stained with his blood was where Aziraphale had left him. It was more of a shock to him than to the demon. The angel opened his mouth to say something, but not a sound came out of it. He tried again and again he failed as his blue eyes became suspiciously shiny.

"I'm sorry, Aziraphale. I should've come alone," said Crowley, taking the angel's hand. Then with a snap of his fingers he cleaned the mess.

"Nonsense, my dear, I'm perfectly fine." Aziraphale forced himself to be strong, Crowley was showing an incredible courage, he couldn't be outdone. "Your poor plants, though" he sighed. It was undeniable that, dried-up and wrinkled as they were, they offered quite a depressing sight, and neither a demonic miracle nor an angelic one could bring dead things back to life.

But Crowley didn't want to give up so early. He gave a motivational speech worthy of the best coach, in fact a few of the plants actually reacted, even if only with a small shudder of the brown leaves. Crowley was blatantly satisfied, and Aziraphale was thrilled too.

They spent the afternoon taking care of the plants, dusting them, giving them water, fertilizer, removing the dry leaves and so on. It proved to be a very relaxing pastime, especially to do together.

Crowley, who was more experienced, finished a little earlier and for a while he just stood there, casually leaning against the wall watching the angel at work. Aziraphale had taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, at some point, and Crowley was simply unable to take his eyes off him.

He'd always thought that Azraphale was incredibly sexy, the fact that the angel was in no way aware of it only made him more charming. Just looking at him, crouching with his back perfectly straight, with a tiny droplet of sweat slipping along his temple, made Crowley want to jump him, while a familiar warmth pooled up into his lower belly. As soon as Aziraphale finished working on the last pot and got up, in fact, Crowley was on him. He barely gave the angel the time to turn before taking his face in his hands and kissing him in the least chaste way possible.

Aziraphale found himself squashed against the wall, with a rug still in his hand, and a decidedly aroused demon ravishing his lips. Taken completely by surprise, he needed a few moments to understand what was happening, but when he did, his body reacted making him suddenly a very happy angel.

It had been too long since the last time he'd had Crowley, and although sex was only one of the many components of their relationship, decidedly overshadowed in light of everything that had happened, nonetheless Aziraphale had missed the most passionate side of the demon.

After a few minutes of that treatment he felt his knees turning into jelly and he'd to let himself slide along the wall to the floor. Crowley straddled his legs, and without stopping kissing him even for a moment, he managed to take off Aziraphale's shirt without popping any buttons.

Crowley didn't even know what exactly had triggered his desire, the only thing he knew was that he was desperately in love, that he wanted to feel Aziraphale inside himself and that he needed his warm and gentle hands to chase away even the last shreds of his recent bad memories.

They usually preferred to go slowly to better savour every moment, right now, however, Crowley shivered with barely repressed desire and passed on his impatience to Aziraphale as well. They started to tear each other's clothes off, but soon Crowley lost what little patience he still possessed and with a snap he got rid of the remaining clothes.

"Sorry Angel, I can't to wait any longer."

"Neither do I."

The hunger in Aziraphale's eyes was so evident that Crowley felt a rush of blood to the head, and gasped loudly when the angel's hands grabbed his buttocks in a firm and possessive grip. Aziraphale studied every expression on his face carefully, to make sure that Crowley was feeling nothing but pleasure.

The demon lowered his head then, and whispered into his hear, “I need you now, Aziraphale.”

His tone was half pleading, half commanding, his breath like a soft caress that drove Aziraphale insane. He slid his fingers along the crack between the demon's buttocks until he reached his small opening and there he stopped. Crowley, already lost in his own world of pleasure, was slowly undulating his hips looking for more friction. "Angel, please..." he begged when he couldn't have more, and Aziraphale didn't make him wait. With a small miracle he made Crowley's little hole slippery and wet, then he pushed his finger inside.

"Too fast?" He asked worried, when he felt Crowley gasp and clench his muscles.

Crowley only managed to shake his head. "Nnhh" was all he could say. They weren't going too fast, he'd just risked finishing already at the mere thought of what was about to happen. He shifted on his knees with the intention of grabbing the angel's erection and put it inside, but Aziraphale, as blinded by desire as he was, still needed to be sure that Crowley was ready for him. He circled his hips with one arm to hold him still and kissed his neck, just where he knew Crowley liked it the most, as he pushed another finger inside his little hole and prepared him thoroughly.

“A... Aziraphale” moaned the demon after a few instants. "I'm ready, I swear." The desire in his voice was so evident that it sent a new shiver down the angel's spine. He couldn't wait either, so this time he let Crowley free to move, so that he could finally lower himself onto his fully erected cock.

Crowley took it all easily, in one only fluid motion, but being stretched like that after so long was so overwhelming he felt almost dizzy. He'd to close his eyes for a moment and hide his face in the curve of the angel's neck.

It was really just an instant, then while Aziraphale held his hips so tightly he'd probably leave bruises, Crowley started to move, incapable of staying still and eager to have more. He began to move his hips again, slowly at first, the faster and faster.

Aziraphale looked at him completely enraptured. "My love" he murmured stroking the back of the demon's neck and holding him tight. Sitting like that on his lap, with his eyes closed and his head tilted back, Crowley looked like a pagan god of love. Aziraphale knew that that thought wouldn't count as blasphemy since it was born of pure, total and deep love.

Who could have possibly believed that Crowley was an imperfect, unworthy being? How could Crowley have believed it himself, when it was so evident that he was worth of nothing but love?

Aziraphale let his hands wander over the amber skin of the demon's back as Crowley nipped at his neck and earlobe, tickling him with his small, sharp canines, and sinking his long fingers into his soft blond curls.

When Crowley started to touch himself Aziraphale gently pushed his hand away, he wanted to do it, he wanted to be the one who gave the demon all the pleasure he deserved. Aziraphale stroked his erection as he kept on pushing deep inside his body and Crowley let out absolutely delicious moans.

Neither could last very long, and when thanks to the skilful touch of Aziraphale's hand Crowley came with a loud cry, he clenched his muscles imprisoning the angel's cock in a tight grip. Azirpahale then came too, moaning sweet nonsense and filling Crowley's body with a warm, pearly stream. The only thing Aziraphale could do then, was holding the weary demon in his arms, getting drunk with the intoxicating scent of his disheveled hair.

***

Crowley woke up not even a couple of hours after falling asleep. Once back in Soho he and Aziraphale had spent the evening sharing a bottle of red wine, then they'd made love again and again, until Crowley was so spent he couldn't lift a finger, let alone anything else, and Aziraphale so exhausted he'd uncharacteristically decided to sleep for a while.

The arm around the demon's waist was now completely relaxed, Aziraphale's breathing slow and regular. The angel slept soundly but Crowley had only managed a nap, it was an odd circumstance. After a while he gave up on sleep and sat up slowly so as not to disturb the other.

Aziraphale's face was truly perfect under the silver rays of the moon filtering through the window, his hair looked like white gold, his skin like pure alabaster. Crowley wanted to stroke those soft curls but stopped at the last moment. He was afraid of waking the angel up and right now he felt the need to be alone.

He gave Aziraphale a soft kiss on the forehead and stood up without making the slightest noise, then reached the living room sofa. He was cold with only his black silk pajama pants on, but he didn't care. He lifted his naked feet on the sofa cushion and hugged his knees, only then he noticed the cat curled up in a corner of the couch, asleep and apparently unaffected by his presence.

Crowley stared at the darkness for a while, as the memories of the past weeks began to come back to him like flashes. Only a few, at first, the most beautiful ones, such as the day Aziraphale had put the ring on his finger, or the night at the Planetarium, then all the others came too, the most terrible ones, the ones he'd desperately tried to forget.

They crashed down on him all at once, and suddenly breathing became difficult, as if cold hands were squeezing his throat. Icy hands like Sloth's ones, moments before she broke his wing, or like Lust's hands, touching him with arrogance, in a way that had made Crowley feel dirty like never before.

He shivered, incapable to forget the cold. For such a long time, during the endless hours of apathy, cold had been the only real feeling, and however much he'd hated it, it'd also been the only thing reminding him he was still alive.

He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head as if to drive away all the bad thoughts; somehow it'd worked in the past, somehow he'd managed, but now he found himself completely defenceless and he didn't understand why.

Everything was in the past, now, Aziraphale was safe, asleep in their bed and in love with him despite everything, the sweet soreness in Crowley's lower back was yet another reminder of his angel's love.

The cat came up to him, then, as if Crowley's thoughts had woken him up. He nuzzled the demon's side, purring. Crowley took him in his lap and started to pet him slowly, after all they'd both suffered the same fate and besides, the black fur, once again thick and soft, was undoubtedly a nice tactile sensation.

"Don't get too used to it," he said in a raspy voice.

The cat purred even louder. Apparently, despite his proud and aloof demeanour, he liked to be cuddled.

"You'll have to move soon, anyway," Crowley reminded him, albeit it was only half a truth. Together with Aziraphale he'd already rejected all the possible candidates who, however, were not many. Giving an old, unsociable cat up for adoption was not easy.

The cat obviously didn't reply, Crowley kept on stroking him absentmindedly, reminiscing those moments when he'd thought of giving him a quick, painless death. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, unable to get rid of the cruel hand gripping his heart. No absolution came and none was needed, but after a while, of their own volition and without any warning, came the tears.

Crowley let them fall, slow and silent. Just a minute, really, was all he needed to tidy up his thoughts, then he could stop being an idiot and go back in his warm bed where he belonged. The tears, though, instead of stopping increased and with them came the sobs. Crowley felt now like a complete fool, he should've stopped them earlier, when he still could. Now, they were like a river in flood, they hurt so much, and they felt good at the same time.

He had no idea why he was having such a reaction just then but in the end the only thing he could do was to surrender. He cried in the dark, trying to be silent, until a warm and gentle hand stroked the nape of his neck, "Crowley..."

The demon startled. His usual luck, of course. He had kept those tears at bay for weeks without even realizing it, just to let them go in time to make a fool of himself in front of Aziraphale. As if he wasn't already a desperate case.

He mentally scolded himself, though, he didn't have to follow that thread of thoughts, it'd only make Aziraphale sad. It just wasn't easy to be so completely, desperately vulnerable in front of him after millennia spent well hidden behind walls higher and more solid even than those of the Garden.

He turned his face to the side, even though it was dark, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, but it was pointless.

"Sorry Angel, I... I didn't mean to wake you up," he stammered, but Aziraphale wasn't there to receive an apology. He lit a small lamp and nothing else because he knew that otherwise Crowley would've felt even more exposed. Standing next to him, he pulled the demon close and held him tightly. "You know sleep doesn't mean much to me,” he said combing Crowley's fiery hair with his fingers. Almost as if he wanted Aziraphale to get closer, the cat hopped off the demon's lap.

Crowley couldn't resist the warm relief of that embrace even though he wanted nothing more than to run and hide somewhere, rather than be seen in that state. The fingers massaging his scalp so softly for some reason did nothing to calm the tears, they actually made them worse. Crowley's image, however, was already shattered, so why deprive himself of that little comfort? He hid his face in the angel's soft belly, and putting his feet back on the carpet, he circled Aziraphale's hips with his arms, then finally he let himself go.

Each one of his pained sobs was a stab right into Aziraphale's heart, but the angel was also relieved that those tears, or any reaction at all, had come. Finally even the high and strong banks of Crowley's courage had given way, it was necessary for him to start healing properly, even if the demon considered it a weakness.

"My dear boy,” Aziraphale tried after a while, “you need this, it will do you good, you'll see."

No answer came, not that Aziraphale was expecting one, and after an indefinite time, when it seemed that Crowley was finally calming down, he tried again. "Crowley, please look at me," he asked kindly. The demon, however, hugged him even tighter, sinking his face even further into the soft flannel of Aziraphale's pajamas.

"Crowley," the angel insisted gently.

As it had always been, Crowley was unable to deny the angel anything, so he finally looked up into Aziraphale's eyes, without freeing him from his embrace. It was a guilty look, the look of someone who didn't even dare to ask for forgiveness, and it broke the angel's heart; Crowley had no reason at all to feel ashamed or embarrassed. Aziraphale kissed him with infinite softness, until he finally felt the demon relax.

"I'm so proud of you, my dear," said Aziraphale, and it was true. He was proud of Crowley for all the progress he'd made and for those he was still making.

Aziraphale's love was so palpable and powerful that it still took Crowley's breath away. The demon closed his eyes, and two more tears escaped from his eyelids. Aziraphale wiped them with the soft sleeve of his pajamas and kissed his forehead.

"Aziraphale?" Said then Crowley in a husky voice.

"Yes, darling?"

"I want to tell you everything."

Aziraphale nodded, he'd been waiting patiently for that moment even knowing he wasn't going to hear anything pretty. "Of course, my dear. I'll listen."

He sat down next to the demon and finally Crowley told him what they'd done to him, his thoughts, his fears, all of it. It actually felt good, to have somebody who'd listen, somebody who wasn't scared, even of the darkness surrounding him. When he was done, anyway, he added. "Don't say anything, please."

There were actually a lot of things the angel wanted to say, he was simply furious at how the Sins had treated his demon, but it wasn't the right time for that. There was one thing he just couldn't keep to himself, though. "Can I at least say one thing? Can I at least say that I love you?"

Crowley searched Aziraphale's eyes and found them clear and honest as always. "Yes, I guess you can say that," he shrugged.

Aziraphale smiled softly, "and also that..."

"These are two things, angel."

"I was saying" Aziraphale scolded gently, "that just because I love you so much I'd like you to feel free to express your feelings when you are with me. Always."

Crowley nodded slowly, he knew what Aziraphale was trying to say. "I love you too," he said in the end. “And I can listen too, you know. You had to deal with a lot of nasty stuff too, I want to be here for you."

“My love, you've always been there for me, now it's my turn and I'm fine, I promise. You're here, you're safe, I really don't need anything else.”

"Ngk, you keep on being too mushy," said Crowley unable to hide his fierce blush. Then he sighed, completely worn out, "my head hurts."

Aziraphale was unable to hold back a small smile at the too predictable accuse of being an unapologetic sap, but his demon seemed really tired now, and Aziraphale could understand it; to lay bare his own feelings, to show his own vulnerability, to cry, could be liberating but also exhausting.

"Do you want to go back to bed?" He asked, stroking Crowley's hair and chasing his headache away with a small miracle.

"Yes," the other nodded. He actually felt much lighter. Aziraphale had been right, as always, those tears had done him a lot of good, but they'd drained him and he couldn't wait to sink into the mattress.

They got up and went back to bed followed by the cat who settled on a small armchair in a corner, from where he could see them both, as if that place was rightfully his.

"Aziraphale?" Crowley asked, curling up next to the angel.

"Yes my dear?"

"Can we keep him?"

Aziraphale laughed to himself, he'd been expecting that question for a while, he'd even hoped for it. The cat was wise and they shared the same appreciation for food, besides he was good company for Crowley during the long hours Aziraphale spent reading. "Of course we can."

Crowley thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, although it was not necessary, Aziraphale had become quite fond of the cat too.

"Have you already thought of a name?" Asked the angel.

"Sure. Lucky son of a bitch."

“Good Lord, Crowley...”

“He's purring, he likes it!"

Aziraphale was not convinced at all "He purrs quite often because you're already spoiling him.”

“Look at who's talking!”

Aziraphale didn't know if Crowley was talking about the cat or himself, he still had the decency to be slightly embarrassed at getting caught. “Well, my dear, it still isn't appropriate."

It was Crowley's turn to hide a smile. "We could use an acronym, like Lsoab."

"Quite a mouthful, I'd say."

"It's not like your name isn't some kind of keysmah. I always wonder what I'd summon if I managed to say it backward. Elahp..."

Aziraphale glared at him even if he wasn't mad at all, then silenced him with a kiss and finally turned to the cat. "I'm sorry, our demon is a bit silly, you'll have to get used to it."

Crowley chucked, then yawned ungracefully. His eyes where still burning for the tears and he just wanted to rest. "Ok, ok tomorrow you'll help me find a really cool name."

"Of course my dear, now sleep," said Aziraphale wishing Crowley good night with a small kiss on the demon's brow.

Crowley found a better position, with his head on the angel's shoulder and his hand on his chest, so that he could feel Aziraphale's heart beating. As Aziraphale began yet another book, a small smile appeared on the demon's lips.

He loved when Aziraphale called him _my_ something, and he loved to know that Aziraphale belonged to him too.

Crowley's eyes fell slowly shut, and the last thing he saw before giving himself over to a peaceful sleep was the shiny ring on his angel's hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this one is even more un-betaed than the previous chapters, I'm deeply sorry, but I needed to post it, like, now or never, due to reasons. I may or may not come back and fix minor details later.
> 
> This story ends here, it was fun to write as it was hard, in a sense it made me even more insecure than I already am, so I hope so so so much you liked it at least a bit! Anyway thank you for reading :)
> 
> Title track --> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0AIlz08fZos

**Author's Note:**

> This is my (almost) first try with this pairing and fandom, so I hope I'm not doing too much of a mess, besides this story is unbetaed, for which I'm sorry. Anyway I have lots of plan for this fic, so I hope you people will enjoy the ride ^^
> 
> Also, since I'm a bit of a music nerd, here's the track that inspired the main title, if you're curious  
\--> Behind blue eyes https://youtu.be/dMrImMedYRo  



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